Curselock

Chapter 12: Remembrance

The night before his nineteenth birthday, Glenny trembled with fatigue. His fingers were calloused and his arms scored with shallow cuts, his shirt was stuck to his chest and back, and his eyes were narrow. He circled his opponent who was still fresh and without a wound.

“Longer you wait, the more opportunities you give me,” the opponent said, his voice quiet and reserved.

That got to Glenny, the small digs. The constant reminder of failure, the constant reminder of her.

He charged, one dagger rising into the air while the other stayed low. He twisted after the first stab, reversing the grip on the lower knife before lunging with a long slash. He felt the attack hit, but when he checked his blade, no blood returned his gaze – only his reflection.

His red hair, another reminder.

Roaring, Glenny pushed forward, his hands dancing with sharpened weapons, stabbing, cutting, blocking, parrying. His daggers bounced off his opponent, each time proving more forceful than the last. Vibrations ran through his fingers and out through his nails. They were bleeding at this point, the strength of his opponent ending the battle before it could truly begin.

A sharp pain appeared on the edge of his ear. It started cold and dull, but became an issue as time went on. His blood kept spilling, more and more, soon his whole neck and shoulder was covered in the red liquid. But it was just a small cut, how was he bleeding this much?

“Never allow yourself to be hit. Even the smallest wounds can be deadly with the powers of the Lords.”

Glenny nodded, taking the stance his parents had taught him as a child. He flew in, whirling his daggers like a madman – or a grieving man.

Eventually the battle ended, Glenny lost, unconditionally. His father gave him a trying smile, one that was forced not because he proved himself unworthy of praise, but because the sorrow was still too fresh.

Two and a half years. When would the memories stop being nightmares?

“Good work today,” his father said. “Take your time in the Dream Ceremony, pick what your heart tells you.”

Those words meant more to Glenny than any training or lecture. From this point on, he was fighting for his own life. Any failure would be his own, not his teachers or lack of skill. There was no talent in this world, only the fruitful and diligent would survive.

“I’m going back to the Inquisitors in three days,” his father said. “Before I leave, I need you to know something. Something deep in the heart of your hearts, something grander than any lesson. Your mother loved you, more than anything. It was a travesty what happened to her. Please don’t fall for the same trick.”

Glenny nodded along with the words, requoting his father’s bitter words from a few days after the funeral. “’Never allow yourself to be stabbed in the back. Always watch the enemy. Only trust those who are willing to do the same for you.”

His father grimaced at the rueful tone, his tone from back when he was angry. “You’re going to do great out there, son.”

Leland watched Glenny carefully. They had only just stepped over the boundary into the dungeon, but the Legacy of Chameleons was already rearing for a fight. Leland supposed it was possible for the Icewillow to sit by the entrance, but that felt unlikely. Not with a hostage, at least. No, their target would be deep into the dungeon, possibly even at the end.

“Remember guys,” Leland said. “This dungeon hasn’t been cleared in a long time. Monsters Breaks are this area’s ode to gold, so the dungeon is going to be overflowing with monsters.”

All three knew how dungeons worked quite well. Each had researched in their own time about bidding on delving time slots, finding fresh entrances out in the wilds, and even what happened when a dungeon “broke.”

When a dungeon failed to be cleared in a timely manner, the monsters inside had the opportunity to break free – otherwise known as Monster Breaks. Sometimes, like in Liontrunk’s case, it is appreciated. Other times, whole cities could be overrun and destroyed. Careful monitoring was needed, something the Guild took responsibility for.

“I don’t sense anything,” Glenny said, causing the team to relax a bit.

Each still held their weapons, but took the moment to really look around the dungeon. It was their first time in one, after all.

Dungeons were not always like their surroundings. A desert could have a dungeon set in an ocean, a volcano entrance could be in a frozen tundra. This, luckily, was not such a case. While the scenery had changed to a more rocky landscape, the tall, straw-like grass still littered the ground around them.

A clear path had been set by the dungeon, one leading through the savannah up onto a cliff face. Closer to the rocky drop off, the path changed from dirt to wood. Wooden steps and a rickety bridge led up the cliff, eventually stopping at a cave entrance.

“Looks like we are going up there,” Leland said, pointing.

Jude’s frown turned deep. “I-I don’t do that well with heights. Maybe we should just tell the Guild—"

He cut himself off when the entrance / exit of the dungeon turned red, signaling that if they left, they would not be allowed back in. Jude swallowed, “Never mind.”

Leland rolled his eyes, his gaze finding a trembling Glenny. “You alright?”

“I think so.”

“Then let's get going. Icewillow has an hour on us.”

They took the path, Jude leading the charge while Glenny sandwiched Leland into the center of their convoy. They went slowly over the mold riddled steps and one at a time, crossed the bridges. The scaffolding ebbed and flowed with their weight, but eventually they made it to the cave entrance. When they did, the corpses started appearing.

Mana Lions, dozens of them. Each mangled and covered in frozen blood. Spikes of red jutted from their pelts or embedded through their eye sockets. They pushed through, finding more monster bodies as they went.

The cave turned and bent, rose and fell, and eventually opened into a small cavern. At the far end was a raised stone platform, like a bed frame without a mattress. On it, lions were frozen inside a solid block of red ice like a prehistoric glacier with a neanderthal encased. It was then Leland thought of something.

Tentatively, he spoke up, “A-are you going to be able to fight this guy?”

Jude shared the same sentiment. “I’ve never seen magic like this before. What Legacy is he?”

Glenny knew the answer to one of the questions. “Legacy of the Cold Blooded. I don’t know everything about his abilities, but he can freeze blood.”

“Can we do anything to him?”

Glenny answered with a hesitation. “If we all attack together, yes. We have to stick to a plan though.”

Jude shook his head. “If you think the three of us can beat an expert mage, then, sorry for the bluntness, but how did this guy kill your mom?”

“It was a backstab,” Glenny answered robotically. “He was assisting the Inquisitors against his own House. He was a rat, an informant. He changed his mind, I guess. My mother wasn’t expecting it. He attacked when the others were raiding their main mansion. She was tasked to watch him.”

Leland patted his friend on the back. “We’ll get him, don’t worry.”

Glenny nodded, a shimmer catching his eye. Within the red block of ice, a golden orb shone. “Looks like Icewillow is forgoing monster drops. Looks like he’s not here for the loot.”

“What’s he here for then?” Jude asked, scratching the back of his hair.

Leland answered. “Probably just a place to hide out. If he could go somewhere that no one could follow, he’d be safe.”

“But why make a mess at the dungeon entrance? Now people are going to know that someone came in here, and I’ll bet the Inquisitors are not too far behind.”

That made Leland pause. “Onryo. He saw an opportunity. There are always more dungeons. You don’t always get the chance to kill a House enemy.”

Glenny pulled at his tattoo, revealing a handled mirror. He looked at the fogged words before speaking to the others, “Come on, we’ve spent too much time here.”

They exited the chamber and headed through another tunnel. Again the path twisted and turned, leading them up and around. Lion bodies littered the floor, each dead much like the previous ones . The trail of corpses told them they were on the right track, which was proven correct when the tunnel led to a set of wooden stairs.

They hesitantly went up, finding the cave opened to the surface. They poked their heads out and were able to hear the snarls. They were at the top of the cliff, a flat plateau of lush swaying grass. Wind howled through the area, threatening to overshadow the calls of the Mana Lion.

It stood, easily eclipsing the average Mana Lion by three or four times. Two long fangs stretched out of his massive maw, bone white compared to the beast’s deep amber mane. Streaks of blue floated around its head, mana as its name suggested.

What pulled the boys’ attention, however, was the two men. One young, one older. One battled the great beast, the other shivered in fear.

Young Master Onryo was still alive.

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