Kryos
The Dragontrail wagon raced down the paved road, its wheels rolling gently over the smooth expanse despite the chaotic scene surrounding them all. The skies continued to pour out its angry tears, and Kryos could feel the pings off of his armor as the falling droplets soaked his hair and pasted it to his head. He was clinging to the top of the wagon, braced low, and claws gripping the roof to keep fixed to it in case of any bumps.
He glanced back and saw the rest of the caravan was, thankfully, keeping up. The golden chains that hovered in mid-air connecting him, Leona, Vaelin, and the other caravaners were flickering as the droplets passed through them. As he looked farther back, he could see the infinite void of black, devouring dark spreading across the landscape, devouring the horizon, the roads—everything.
The SAVE system flickered in the top-right of his vision, and he looked at it, which prompted words to flicker across his vision.
[You have reached the Red Run.]
[Objective: Reach the final waystation.]
[Condition: Do not stop.]
[Condition: All wagons must remain in motion.]
[Warning: Lost wagons join the pursuit.]
“We need to keep everyone moving,” Leona said, glancing sideways at Kryos. “I don’t know if this is a race, but I know our wagon can go faster.”
Vaelin looked back at the caravan, then said, “I think that it might be wise to move our wagon and be reactionary. Set Marn and his wagon to lead.”
Kryos saw the logic in her plan, and was about to call out exactly for that plan to be enacted, but movement in the blackness caught his gaze. A deep, crimson blur—dozens of them—seemingly shaped like lumps being hauled by other, smaller lumps. The more he focused on them, and the closer they edged to the lip of the black void, the more they materialized. They were bloody red wagons, hauled by steeds he recognized: those same two-headed troll creatures from the maze that had caught him mid-swing and nearly cost him a limb.
Every instinct of his mom’s bloodline screamed at him to hold his ground and show these hostile invaders the folly of their actions, but this chamber demanded movement. Still, the imprinted, steel chains from the prior chamber weighed down his limbs, making it feel like he was having to lift even more weight. He planted his foot claws onto the wagon, brought himself into a crouch, and then shouted out, “Enemies incoming! Marn, get to the lead!”
The crimson wagons fully emerged from the blackness, and were ablaze with violet and bloody flames that sputtered, crackled, and screamed. People on the caravan began to panic, shouting, screaming, and Kryos could see the golden chain wending between him and his allies becoming more solid.
Vaelin began to reach for it, saying, “One of us needs to carry the weight of the fear.”
Kryos immediately grabbed. The golden links burned for a moment, and then he saw golden lines shoot toward his face—but they stopped an inch before they reached him. “I’ve got resistance to this emotion manipulation stuff,” Kryos said. “We need to figure something out.”
Leona pulled the Dragontrail wagon off to the side of the road, and Kryos dug in with his claws to keep rooted in place as she slowed, allowing the caravan to pass them by. “We have to hold off the attackers!”
Finally! Kryos thought as he kept the golden chain gripped in his left hand and grabbed his mace with his right. No puzzles, just raw power.
Part of him craved the impending violence as their wagon slowed to the back of the caravan line, and the hostile, blood-red, flaming wagons with their ogre-monster mounts pulled them along. His draconic lineage was eager for the conflict, and part of Kryos wanted to jump down and hold the road: planting himself with the full weight of his mom’s gravity dragon bloodline to become an immovable barrier. Yet, the continually advancing darkness told him that was idiotic.
“Do we have anything that I can shoot?” Kryos asked.
Leona looked back at him for a moment. “In my pack,” she said. “I have climbing spikes.”
Kryos glanced at Vaelin. “Grab them, and hold them loosely for me.”
Vaelin dug into Leona’s pack, still on her back, and came out with six, five-inch-long metal spikes with a flat top. “Now what?” Vaelin asked.
Kryos looked back at one of the trolls hauling the crimson wagons, and used Mass Driver. The climbing spike shot out of Vaelin’s grip, and went sailing right into the thing’s temple, driving straight through it and causing a gory explosion of blood, brain matter, and red mist, as the projectile obliterated the creature. The body fell, the wagon ran over it, and the whole thing flipped before extinguishing—consumed by the hungering dark.
“Holy stars above,” Vaelin said.
Kryos couldn’t help but let out a laugh, despite the golden chains that he held and weighed him down, along with the branded-steel ones that clung to his scales. He didn’t have to move his limbs at all for that Skill. “Move us left!”
Leona steered them further behind the caravan, so that Kryos was within one-hundred feet of the next wagon troll, and he launched another nail. It drove right through the skull, exploded out of the other side, and caused another collapse. “How are we doing back there?” Leona asked.
“Looking good,” Vaelin replied. “As long as we have stuff for Kryos to fling.”
More blobs of crimson appeared in the darkness, and dozens of the jackal monsters from the first chamber came tearing across the road, passing the wagons and gaining on Dragontrail’s conveyance. Floating, flaming blue and orange chains with sharp hooks along their length, and a massive spike on the edge, whipped around like a whirling dervish. They flung and latched onto their wagon.
Leona shouted, “Damnit! Something is slowing us down!”
Kryos used his mace and batted the anchors and hooks away, gouging bits of the wood on their wagon to dislodge the devices, but freeing their wagon from the encroaching hostiles. They brought the chains back and began to whirl them again. “Vaelin, grab my shield! It shouldn’t get hooked like yours.”
He felt Vaelin’s hand slip around his shoulder, grabbing his shield, and felt her slip the remaining climbing spikes into his chain-filled left hand. Then, she grabbed the golden chain herself to stabilize, and intercepted an incoming hook, parrying it with Kryos’ shield. “Got it!”
Kryos spared a glance at the caravan, and saw that they had begun to slow—and eyes were glued to their Party, as if it were a show. He raised his voice to shout at them to stop gawking and move, but knew that they were already in panic and scaring them farther wouldn’t help at all. Instead, he elected to focus on the opponents, prioritizing using his Mass Driver to eliminate more of the troll creatures—which, thankfully, were far smaller and less durable than the prior one they had fought. However, the first shot must have been lucky, as the other trolls he impacted were not instantly killed, but instead the blow knocked them off course, and they went crashing to the ground—not dead, but out of the fight nonetheless as their wagons fell off to the distance.
Leona
It’s not just a chase, Leona thought as she saw the road continue on before them endlessly. This is a challenge. This final waystation has to be reached by meeting some other condition. Her eyes darted across the caravan wagons. One is overloaded, one has more injured, another has a wobbling wheel, two are too close so the beasts pulling cannot do their job. It’s a combined problem again. Logistics and buying time.
The easiest solution would be to order the caravaneers to move their wagons alongside one another, and to have as many people leave the unreliable-wheel-bearing wagon behind. Heck, she could even have them drop cargo. But that was going to play into the same pattern as the maze beforehand. The challenge itself had attempted to get her to sacrifice the SUPPLY wagon in order to make the rest of the journey easier. The prior chamber had attempted to get Vaelin to sacrifice herself to make the rest of the journey easier.
And if there was one thing Leona had learned in her life, it was that the hardest path was often the most rewarding. Given how difficult their journey had been thus far in this Rift, she knew they could hold out, solve the problem of this chamber, and come out with as many wagons and passengers intact as possible to get the best reward possible. The people, the wagons, those were the mission. They didn’t necessarily have value inherently thanks to the fact that they were not real people and supplies; they were just manifestations of a Rift, after all. But, just because something didn’t have value didn’t mean it wasn’t important.
That was one thing the Rift had reinforced to her through its trials.
Glancing back, she saw that Kryos had dealt with the wagons, and Valin was successfully holding off the hooks. Looking at the chain, an idea struck her.
It can carry emotions, she thought, and Vaelin reasoned it could share pain, too. I wonder if it can convey words?
Leona grabbed the golden chain and said, “Listen up, and reply if you can hear me.”
“I’m right here,” Vaelin said, voice calm and disciplined.
Kryos grunted an affirmation.
To her delight, Leona heard Marn’s voice through the golden chain, along with the voices of other caravaners. She immediately spoke over all of them. “I need the MEDICAL wagon and CHARTER wagon to move next to one another. Have some of the able-bodied on the former jump to the latter to alleviate weight on that wiggling wheel.”
The CHARTER wagon fell back toward the MEDICAL one, and Leona saw a few brave caravaners jump across to redistribute the weight, and to her satisfaction, the wobbling wheel stabilized a bit now that the whole conveyance wasn’t carrying as large of a load. “Excellent! Now, the SUPPLY wagon—we’ve gotta drop some weight.”
Marn interrupted her, “We need the supplies, and the caravan cannot afford the waste.”
Leona frowned and said, “We need to drop the weight to keep everyone moving at the same pace.”
Quieter, the caravan speaker replied, “Well, the old caravan would have cut losses.”
Leona snapped back, “This is the way things are done. If you don’t like it, then you can go ahead and jump off your wagon and lighten the load.” That seemed to shut the man up, and Leona repeated her instructions. “Drop the extra weight we can from that SUPPLY wagon!”
Leona pulled herself up behind the wagon, so that the supplies could be thrown past her, but more importantly, hopefully a few bits and pieces of heavier items would be within Kryos’ range for his new ranged combat Skill. “Kryos! More ammunition coming!”
As a water barrel went crashing to the road, exploding, a chunk of wood floated in mid-air, then shot off to Leona’s right, impacting one of the dog-chain-whip creatures chasing them. “Got it!” Kryos replied.
Then, she looked forward, and saw that the two wagons too close to one another were still just far too tight with one another. She accelerated the Dragontrail wagon, and got up alongside the back vehicle. She shouted, “Slow a little! Give them a good fifteen-foot gap!” The driver who looked at her had eyes that were wide and wild with fear, and Leona grabbed the golden chain connecting her to him, and willed the fear to her.
She saw the look leave the driver’s eyes, and then she felt an intense sensation of dread crawl down her spine—only to be ripped away. She saw it travel down the golden chain behind her, and to Kryos. But, her Anchor didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest thanks to his passive resistance to mind fuckery.
Then, beyond the Guildmaster, she saw the next problem. The rear-most wagon, the one containing a few passengers, was being driven away from the road by the dog-chain monsters, who were tethered to it and trying to pull it off course. “Kryos! Vaelin! Problem back there!”
Vaelin
Vaelin felt the golden chain, heavy, in her grip. Kryos was taking on the emotional toll and seemingly unaffected, but she was taking on the lethargy that would have otherwise afflicted all of their Party. The shield she carried was heavy, and she barely got it into the path of another incoming grappling hook. Leona’s words called to her to take action, but Vaelin didn’t have any real offensive capabilities aside from stabbing with her spear.
So, she kept doing what she could, while Leona moved them closer to the trailing wagon which was being driven away from the main caravan. That’s when she felt it—the flaming, red, hooked chains that had bit into the wagon were not just physical manifestations; those chains were also tethers that carried an intense rage. As she focused her intention and will upon one, she saw the reality of their nature.
“The chains aren’t real!” Vaelin shouted.
“No shit,” Leona replied.
Vaelin looked at the golden chain both of them were holding. “No, not that one, those ones! The red ones!” She looked at one, spent MP just as if she were trying to reach out and take on someone else’s burdens in her clan’s ritual, and felt an intense hatred roil in her chest. The chain shattered, vanishing entirely. “And fuck you!” Vaelin barked out, shouting at Leona. Then, she immediately added, “Sorry! I’m going to be cursing at you a lot here.”
“If it helps us beat this, then say what you need to,” Kryos said as he leaned over and with a swipe of his mace knocked another flaming chain loose.
Vaelin heard a scream from farther up the caravan line, and saw a passenger had been bucked from a sudden bump in the road. They were dangling, legs getting battered and bruised by the road as their fellows tried to pull them up. That person was linked with the golden chain. Vaelin gripped the chain tighter and pulled that pain onto herself, feeling the intense agony as her legs began to quiver from the sensation of being beaten to a pulp.
Then, the pain flickered away, and she heard Leona and Kryos both cursing under their breath.
Oh, Vaelin thought, it automatically distributes the pain amongst those actively holding it. I wonder—
“Kryos,” she said, looking up at the Anchor standing up above her. “I can stop more of the red chains, but I’ll get really angry. Can you—”
He replied, “Do it. The weird emotion stuff isn’t affecting me.”
Vaelin took that go-ahead and began focusing on red chain after chain, spending a sliver of MP to connect to them, take on the burden and suffering like in her clan’s ritual, and then let the emotions race up the golden chain. She could see the red cloud of miasmic rage linger around Kryos’ head, but the smoke didn’t penetrate.
That Trait of his is coming in handy.
Kryos
The last of the quadrupedal chain-monsters ran off, back into the blackness, once Vaelin had dealt with their flaming chains. The wagons of crimson had gone away, and Kryos was scanning for targets. But, nothing caught his attention, and so he leaned down, grabbed his shield from Vaelin’s shaking hands, and slung it onto his back. “How are we holding up?”
“Fine,” Leona said. “Wagons look good.”
Vaelin just nodded and let the golden chain go. “I think we’re in the clear.” She pointed forward.
Kryos followed her finger and saw that the road shifted from a deep, red hue toward a gentle, pale blue. The skies shifted, fading away, and the rain ceased as they passed some invisible barrier.
Stars shone overhead, flickering in their eternal blanket, as spiraling nebula clouds spun their course along the cosmos. The negative emotions assailing Kryos but finding no purchase faded away, as shouts of relief and words of praise echoed down the line of the caravan.
“The final waystation!” Marn shouted.
“We’ve made it!” another person added.
The wagons kept their rapid pace, and the perfectly paved road continued to stretch ahead. The landscape surrounding them fell away, as the entirety of the world became flat, and even the hungering darkness that had been chasing them vanished. Reality rippled, and Leona pulled their wagon to a stop.
“The heck is this?” she asked.
Kryos couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, either. Just a moment ago, there was nothing ahead, and yet now he could see two large towers, flanking either side of the road, with golden lights that shone like beacons guiding ships to shelter from the storm of the tempestuous ocean.
As the caravan passed by, a wave of refreshing warmth spread through Kryos’ body, and he saw his HP and MP fill to full. Looking at Vaelin and Leona, he saw that they, both, were also seemingly refreshed as they sat up straighter.
The road continued past those two towers, and to the left was a large building with a branching side-road for the wagons to pull aside on. The caravan headed onto that side road and came to a stop. “Are we there?” Vaelin asked.
Leona moved the Dragontrail wagon to the front, and up alongside Marn’s CHARTER wagon. “Well? Is this it?”
The caravan speaker got off of his wagon. “We’ve made it.”
Kryos wanted to feel elation, but he knew that the Rift wasn’t done with them yet. The steel chains still clung to his scales, and weighed his limbs down. “What do we need to do to finish off this Rift?”
Marn began to speak, but then shut his mouth. He shook his head. “There is still one more threat to face.”
Kryos scanned back through his HUD.
[Primary Objective: Escort the Last Caravan to the Final Waystation.]
[Failure Condition: All caravan wagons destroyed.]
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
[Secondary Objective: Preserve the Route Charter.]
[Secondary Objective: Keep the Burden-Binder Alive.]
[Secondary Objective: Prevent Warlord Ascension.]
“We met the primary objective,” Kryos said. “And we didn't lose any wagons, so we didn’t fail. Burden-Binder? Alive. And, the Route Charter is intact. We should be leaving the Rift with artifacts in hand.”
Leona got off of the wagon. “All that’s left is whatever this Warlord Ascension is.” She crossed her arms and walked up to Marn. “You’re the guy with the answers . . . what is that?”
Marn grimaced. “Once we have rested, you will face your final challenge.” He turned and pointed down the road. “This may be the final waystation, but there is yet one more threat.”
“The final chamber,” Vaelin said. “And the Rift Core. This is a rest area before the last challenge.”
Marn said nothing but turned to the various wagons, and saw to the people as they made to get their supplies and move toward the massive building that looked to provide shelter.
Kryos climbed off the wagon and slipped his mace through his belt loop. “We just get a breather? Considerate.”
Vaelin walked alongside him. “It means that whatever threat we face next will be a test unlike anything we have faced thus far.”
The golden chains connecting Kryos to the caravaners vanished, but the ones tying him to Vaelin and Leona persisted. “And let me guess,” he said as he addressed Marn, grabbing the man’s attention. “We are the only ones to go on to this final destination?”
The caravan speaker nodded curtly. “We have gone as far as we can. Your final test, Dragontrail, is down the road. Stars speed you along your course.”
Leona
Leona took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “We shouldn’t make camp,” she said. “We should move and clear this Rift. We can have an actual meal and all of that when we’re out of here.”
“Agreed,” Kryos replied. “Vaelin, how are you? Good with that?”
The Mender adjusted her clothes and then nodded.
“Then all aboard, and we go to the end of the road,” Leona said as she climbed back onto the Dragontrail wagon, got into the driver seat, and grabbed the controls.
Kryos clambered up with Vaelin a moment later, and Leona moved the vehicle away from the caravan.
Thank the stars we’re done with that, Leona thought. I don’t want to deal with logistics like that ever again.
She knew that, even if their Adventuring Guild idea took off and they were able to commission more wagons, get other Parties into the same setup, and franchise like she envisioned, she would not have to do nearly the same level of planning and coordinating as she had to do in here. Most of those mobile Guild Halls would be self-sufficient.
Vaelin tapped her shoulder as they got onto the main road once more, and said, “Thank you for believing in me.”
Leona stared at the Sionna woman for a few moments before she looked back to the road ahead and the infinite horizon of starry skies. “You’ve shown your mettle,” Leona softly replied. “I think that you have potential.”
Vaelin took in a breath, and seemed like she was about to ask something, but thought better of it and kept quiet.
Leona could read the woman like a book though. “Once we’re out of here, we’ll do your official performance review,” she said. “Then, if you did well, and the Guildmaster agrees, you can join up.”
Leona had the breath squeezed out of her as Vaelin hugged her from behind. “Thank you,” Vaelin whispered. “One more chamber.”
Kryos added, “In my opinion, you’ve done well. But, Leona wants to do this performance review thing, so she’ll get the chance.”
Leona looked back at him and gave him a nod of appreciation. Thank you, she thought, for continuing to let me take the lead on these things.
The road before them shifted, vanishing entirely, and Leona grabbed the brake as her breath left her lungs. They were no longer on a stone pathway, but instead were atop a film over shifting waves. She could see the vast expanse of the ocean all around them, but it was not a deep, blue depths beneath. Instead, she saw the skies below; it was an endless depth of black with shimmering white starlight throughout. Above her, she saw a huge city—Shhiv’s Spear, with its multitude of alleys, markets, and docks.
“Are you seeing this?” Leona asked.
Kryos whispered, “The Drakemount? Here?”
Leona looked back at him, and saw Kryos was looking into the distance above them.
Vaelin said, “I think we are each seeing something different. Perhaps the place our journeys began. I can see the first Guild Hall I joined, where my path began.”
That made sense to Leona, as her entire life had shifted in the dead of night, when the entirety of her world was turned upside-down. As for Kryos, he was cast out of the place he called home, and that sent him on his journey’s start.
“There’s symbolism in this,” Vaelin said. “We are being shown the origin that led us each to this point of our life.” She then tapped Leona’s shoulder and pointed ahead. “And that, I believe, is our final destination.”
Leona tore her gaze from the incredible scene and saw another gate with massive towers ahead of her. The portcullis was raised, allowing for entry, and she took in a sharp breath as she drove them forward.
The moment they passed through the gate, the world shifted once more. No longer was it the upside-down world of night and city, but instead the trio atop the Dragontrail wagon were inside of an enormous dome. Buildings were carved into the outside edges, and floating in the center of the dome, thirty-feet off the ground, was an enormous Rift Core in the center of a wagon wheel, with spokes sticking out. There was no outer ring of the wheel, leaving each sharpened spoke jutting out.
All around there were empty stalls, old wagons and carts that had deposited goods and had long since become coated in layers of cobwebs. Blue lanterns floated throughout the inside of the dome structure, illuminating the space.
Beneath the Rift Core was a throne. Seated atop the throne was a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and akin to Kryos in his build. He had dark, tanned skin, deep, piercing green eyes, and brown hair that was cut short. His armor was smooth and curved around the joints, giving him a streamlined appearance. Iron wagon bands were incorporated into the design, and axle brackets reinforced the forearms and greaves. It was all blackened iron, with dried red dust from the road filling in the seams and crevices. His face was half-covered with a mask that looked like a skull, and the left half was caked in red rust and dust from the road.
Leona stopped the Dragontrail wagon and looked back at her allies. “I think this is the last stop.”
Kryos got off the wagon, equipped his shield and mace, and took a few steps forward. Leona scrambled down to get alongside and behind him, and Vaelin moved to Kryos’ opposite flank. Both women drew weapons: Leona with rapier in one hand, rondel dagger in the other, and Vaelin spun her spear into a ready position, couched on her shield.
The armored man stood up, and his voice slapped Leona like a shockwave. His words carried authority that had never been challenged, and for a brief moment, Leona saw flickers of Kryos in that position under the Rift Core. This individual, their final challenge, was akin to what Leona had glimpsed in her ally when he teetered toward using fear to control the caravaners.
“No losses . . . you made it to the waystation with everyone . . .”
“We won,” Kryos said. “I’m guessing you’re the Rift Core guardian?”
“I am The Roadlord,” the imposing figure replied. His posture was controlled, and he didn’t twitch or snarl or pace. He was fully in command, and as he reached for his battle axe, his body glowed a deep crimson. The Roadlord looked at Kryos and sounded disappointed as he said, “Wasteful. You could have made far better time if you had simply used fear to rule. Like your ancestors would have. Like your mother told you.”
His eyes flicked to Leona, and she felt a tremor in her legs, despite not feeling fear at all in her mind, her body betrayed her in that moment. “You could have saved so much time if you had just been willing to make the hard decisions required of your role. Time is the most valuable resource—and you squandered it.” Last, his eyes went to Vaelin. “And you are the worst of all. Your job was to take on the pain of others. Instead, your leader took on those burdens.” The Roadlord spit to his left, and the red-dust spittle splattered and began to hiss as if it were a caustic acid.
Kryos raised his shield, and reality rippled around him as the purple dome with flickering, black sparks shot into place. His whole body seemed to stabilize, and the Guildmaster said in response, “Our Party did things differently, and we still won.”
Leona saw the flickering shadows cast around them, and knew that she would have an opening soon enough to Shadowstep in close and deliver a deadly blow. Kryos just had to engage. “Come on,” she muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Kryos
Kryos felt like he did when he faced down the earth dragon in Suncrest’s mines; this was a foe who was a direct challenge to his authority and identity. The man before him was a dark reflection of what Kryos could become. This Rift was a cautionary tale for the half-dragon, because it showed what might happen if he fully followed the advice of his mom—to fully embrace the legends and tales of his type of half-dragon.
But Kryos had been struggling with that identity and counterbalancing it with the words and advice of his dad for the past few weeks of travel. This Rift had only reinforced to him what being a half-dragon on Vorunor would mean: Kryos knew he would have to play to the fears of others, but not overtly so. There was an inflection point, a knife’s edge of how he would need to act when interacting with others, whether on the road or in a city. This entire ordeal, being thrust into a role of leadership and responsible for the caravan through these chambers, had given Kryos enough of a glimpse as to possible situations that may arise that he was confident he would be able to make the right decisions when it came to the future of his Adventurer Guild.
The Roadlord raised his axe into both hands, but was still a good twenty feet away from Kryos. A scowl cut through the grime on his face. “Anchor,” the Rift Core guardian growled.
The way the word came across to Kryos’ ears implied respect for someone of a similar position, but there was a subtle pressure behind it—some type of mental manipulation, a Skill that was used to try and force him to bend the knee. Thanks to his Enchantment Resistance, Kryos was unaffected by the mental effect. But, the chains on his forearms, the steel-silver ones that had burned into his scales, felt heavy, and weighed down his arms. His shield felt incredibly heavy, as did the mace he gripped in his other hand.
“You may have saved everyone,” The Roadlord said as he took a step forward, “but a real leader knows when to cut losses. Already, you feel the weight of burden that came from saving others—and it will lead you to your grave.” The Rift Core floating above the now-empty throne turned, and phantasmal, crimson, flaming chains encircled the entire area in a cocoon, surrounding Dragontrail and forcing them into an enclosed arena.
The axe-wielding shadow of Kryos dashed forward, and Kryos took a few steps forward as he raised his shield to block the incoming strike. The moment the axe blade slammed into his shield, Kryos felt something was off. The ground beneath him began to shift, and his footing slipped to his left as part of the road cracked, and a flaming chain shot from the ground, grabbing onto his shield-arm’s wrist, and dragged his defensive bulwark aside.
That opened him up for an axe strike, which came down onto his collarbone. But, Kryos didn’t feel the pain immediately—a shimmering aura of silver surrounded him, and he knew that Vaelin had placed her Skill on him. Confidence brimming from the fact that his Mender was right behind him, Kryos brought his mace up and across the Roadlord’s right side. As the mace crunched into the armor, he activated Sobek’s Wrath. An explosion of blue and gold light flared out from the impact point, and Mass Instinct II amplified the strike even farther, imparting far more weight than what should have been possible from the single blow.
The Roadlord was sent staggering to his left, chest partially caved in as blood poured out from the rust-lined plates. Leona seemingly appeared behind him, and jammed her rondel dagger into the now-broken armor plates, and managed to get at a rivet as the entire chestplate fell away. The Roadlord’s whole body was covered in silver chain tattoos—just like what Kryos felt weighing him down. Then, Leona vanished again, literally disappearing in a blink.
Kryos followed up with another mace swing at the now-exposed chest, but the Roadlord used their empty left hand to catch his wrist, and held the half-dragon’s blow at bay, matching Strength and even overpowering the Guildmaster. Kryos gritted his teeth as his hand was forced out of position, and another crimson chain shot from the ground to his right, grabbed his mace-arm, and ripped him down to the road, forcing him to a kneeling position. The Roadlord let go and pulled back his axe once more: overhead this time, readying for a killing strike.
Kryos dropped his mace and used Mass Driver, launching his mace right into the now-exposed torso. The flanged weapon impacted with a sickening, squelching thud that sent the Rift Core guardian staggering back, off balance from his strike. Leona appeared next to him in a burst of black and deep-blue shadows, and her rapier struck deep, right into the chest cavity above Kryos’ mace.
As the Roadlord backhanded Leona, sending her flying back, a silver aura popped into place around her. Kryos then began to feel the pain from the earlier strike aimed at his collarbone. A deep, intense agony that made him shake, but he knew that he had to get up and keep fighting. He was the Anchor, the Guild was his responsibility, and his ally was just hit. He pulled against the crimson chain tethering him, and roared out in defiance of the bindings holding him. “You’re not killing my Breaker!”
The Roadlord recovered his stance and kicked Kryos’ mace back to him. A manic grin split his face under the mask. “Give me a real fight! Tap into that bloodline of yours!”
Kryos snagged his mace and brought it up in a loping, sweeping-upward arc. The Roadlord brought the shaft of his axe down to intercept the blow, and then twisted the haft to deflect the rest of the strike’s momentum. Kryos used that momentum to swing his shield forward and bash at the Roadlord’s non-axe-side of the weapon’s haft, sending more weight toward the heavier end. The result was that his opponent was set farther off balance, and Kryos capitalized on the moment by drawing on his best advantage: his mass.
Kryos launched forward off of his right foot, slammed his whole body into the Roadlord, and took the both of them to the ground. Kryos was on top, and let his mace go as he used his shield’s rim to bash down into the Rift Core guardian’s face. The skeletal mask cracked, and with an explosion of crimson flames that would have seared his flesh—but was being redistributed and thus not felt immediately—Kryos was launched backward.
As he scrambled to his feet, he saw the Roadlord was able to get back to his feet, great axe in hand, and Kryos froze. He was looking at an older version of himself: the same honey-gold eyes, white horn, black hair, and a long scar down the cheek which he did not have yet. The Roadlord’s body seemed to increase in weight, and Kryos recognized the familiar aura of a Pressure Field activating as he slowed from the Agility reduction.
“Now you see,” The Roadlord said as he turned to his left and deflected a strike from Leona’s rapier. “Now you understand,” he growled.
Kryos felt the pain amplify, and as he was about to call out for healing, it all vanished, and a beam of crimson light shot out from his right—from Vaelin’s spear—and slammed into the Roadlord’s side.
That’s one difference between me and this Rift-formed version of a possible future, Kryos thought. He ran forward with heavy, plodding steps as he closed the distance once more. You used fear and have no more allies—I do. I’ll vindicate every choice that I have made so far; even if I’ve made mistakes. They’ve led me to here, with Leona, and now Vaelin.
Kryos ducked under an axe swing and was close enough to his dropped mace that he could use another Mass Driver, and sent the weapon rocketing up into the Roadlord’s chin. The blow sent him staggering, and Leona appeared behind him and drew her rapier across his now-exposed neck. A burst of deep, purple blood spurted out of the wound, and Kryos finished his charging tackle, slamming into his dark reflection, and sending both to the ground again. The road cracked beneath them, and fiery, crimson chains burst out, wrapping around Kryos and tethering to the silver chain-tattoos on his arms. They tried to pull his grip away from the Roadlord, but fighting back with every ounce of his might, Kryos was able to bring his arms back down to latch onto the Rift Core guardian. “Get him!” he shouted.
Leona was there in an instant, stabbing into the exposed flesh of his pinned opponent with her blades. Blood spurted up and splashed into Kryos’ face, and he had to shut his eyes to prevent himself from being blinded by the ichor spray. He heard Leona grunt and then forced his eyes open.
The Roadlord’s wounds flared with a crimson light, healed over in an instant, and Kryos was grabbed by his foe, and rolled over onto his back. The man moved his gauntleted hands up to the Guildmaster’s throat, and Kryos shoved his forearms into their path, then shot his right hand with claws extended up into his dark reflection’s still-exposed throat. He gouged deep, and more of the purple blood spilled out over him.
The Rift Core guardian was immovable, and despite how much Kryos pushed up and tried to reverse their positions, he was pinned and unable to move. “Face it,” the guardian hissed out as one of his hands found its way around Kryos’ neck and began to squeeze. “You’re weak.”
Leona appeared behind and above the Roadlord again, and stabbed her dagger deep into his throat, ripping sideways and opening a huge gash that ignited with crimson flames and forced her to move backward. A hollow, crackling laugh like the last dying embers of a once-roaring blaze filled the air.
Vaelin’s voice, distant and dim, cut through. “The Core! Leona!”
Kryos’ ally vanished from his sight, and once more the visage of the Roadlord, an older, more terrifying and jaded version of himself, was all that he could see. He bled fire that poured down onto Kryos’ chest and slipped down the earth dragon scales covering his body, preventing the burns. But, the ambient temperature was hot, and Kryos’ lungs couldn’t find any air.
Then, the Roadlord reeled back, pulling his arms away, and let out a scream of hatred as his eyes shot to his left, Kryos’ right, and where Leona had gone. Kryos followed his gaze and saw that Leona had climbed on top of the throne and stabbed upward at the Rift Core with her rondel dagger, piercing the bottom of it. A deep, crimson liquid spilled down and onto her, yet she still shoved her blade deeper.
“No!” The Roadlord shouted as he tried to get up and intervene. That gave Kryos his opening. He lunged up from the waist, wrapping both clawed hands around the guardian’s throat. The searing heat of delayed damage slowly built and burned his hands as the flaming blood kept pouring onto him, but Kryos squeezed and pushed back. He was able to get the Roadlord onto his back, swapping their positions, and only then realized that the strap for his shield had burned away. That left it unattended next to him.
With a bit of his dwindling MP, Kryos used another Mass Driver and directed the shield to shoot into the still-exposed chest of his enemy. The sharp edge slammed into the ribs, dug a few inches deep, then worked its way out as muscles contorted and squeezed against the intruding implement. “Just die!” Kryos roared as he put all his weight into his hands and pushed down.
Leona reappeared next to him, and began stabbing down into the Roadlord’s face, carving deep holes as the figure let out roars and screams of pain that were intermixed with gurgles of blood. “Why won’t it die?!” she shouted.
Vaelin’s voice, not as distant this time, replied, “Disengage and regroup!” She sounded haggard, tired, and there was a moan of pain that accompanied the end of her sentence.
Kryos knew he was pushing his Mender too far, and despite having his foe in a position of weakness, knew that she was calling out a tactic for a reason. Perhaps it was something she could see that he couldn't, given his up-close position. Trusting in his allies, Kryos pulled back and got to his feet, then backed away a few steps. Leona, likewise, slipped back next to him and flanked him.
Kryos could now see the battlefield in its entirety. His mace was on the ground not too far away, as was his shield without its strap or band to affix it in place. The throne in the background was covered in blood, and the Rift Core was gone, with broken wagon wheel spokes strewn about and sticking down into the road all around the seat of authority. The Roadlord’s axe was also on the ground, near Kryos’ mace. The arena of chains surrounding them had dulled from a fiery crimson to a deep blue.
The Roadlord slowly got to his feet, still leaking blood and flame. “You . . . your idea . . . it will fail.”
“No it won’t,” Leona replied.
Kryos glanced back at their wagon, which was still inside the arena of chains, with Vaelin next to it. She was hanging onto one of the wheels, and looked very injured—her whole body was covered in patches of burnt fur and oozing flesh wounds. Ripping his gaze away from his ally, Kryos said, “My Guild is going to survive, because I don’t lead it alone through fear and intimidation.”
The Roadlord let out a cackle that turned to a gurgle, then collapsed to his knees, and finally, fell face-first onto the ground.
The entire world turned white, and Kryos found himself standing in that void, with Leona next to him, and Vaelin having been shunted to his right. She grabbed onto him for stability. “We won,” Kryos said. “Rift sealed.” He dismissed his Skills as a series of messages flickered through the corner of his vision.
[You have cleared a Rift.]
[Rift classification: Breach.]
[Role designation: Anchor.]
[Name of Rift: The Wheelgrave.]
[Reward: Artifact.]
[Artifact Name: Chains of Authority.]
[Grants the Skill: Linked Suffering.]
[Secondary Objectives: 3 out of 3 met.]
[Caravan Condition: lightly damaged.]
[Caravaneer Losses: minimal.]
[Additional Reward authorized.]
[Reward: Quest Conclave’s Boon.]
Kryos’ left arm shoved out to his side seemingly of its own will, and the silver chains that had been branded onto his body all vanished and reappeared in his grip, then wrapped around his wrist. But, it didn’t have any extreme weight to it—it just felt like how much it should usually weigh.
Glancing to his side, he saw that Vaelin was holding a set of bells that she quickly wrapped around the end of her spear. “Good job,” Kryos said. “How are you holding up? You look pretty beat up.”
Vaelin looked at him and met his gaze out. “You and Leona suffered a lot. I am out of MP. This will have to wait.” She winced, then softly smiled. “We did it. Rift survived.”
Leona walked around in front of Kryos, and she had a big smile on her face as she put a black notebook—just like she had beaten in the toll-men encounter—into her hip pouch. “We cleared a Rift without losses.” She looked over to Vaelin and added, “You did well. We can talk about joining the Guild once we are out of here.”
Vaelin nodded. “Okay. How long was your last transit through this intermediary space?”
“Not long,” Kryos replied. “I think fifteen seconds? I’m not sure what’s happening—”
He was cut off as the world shifted and the white void fell away. The trio were standing in a stone chamber, with a single wooden door behind them. In front of Kryos was a horseshoe-shaped table, and shrouded, hooded figures were seated there. Instinctively, Kryos reached for his mace, but didn’t find it on his hip.
The central hooded figure spoke, and their voice was just like the one that Kryos heard when he first set up the Guild Hall’s Quest Board. “You have survived.”
“Who are you?” Leona asked as she took up a defensive stance, rapier in hand.
The hooded figure replied, “The Quest Conclave.”