Chapter 25


    Boots crunched in the freshly fallen snow. The sound of the work crew came from the left. An Ovinid overseer barked at the slaves demanding they work harder in raspy broken English. The Ram-men were even larger than their capronid cousins and its presence was the first sign that the Hooved Horde had despatched some of their larger, more powerful units to this outpost.


    Thankfully, the overseer ignored me and kept its unwanted attention on the poor sods working under its supervision. A lone capronid alpha returning to the camp was beneath its notice. Two smaller goat-men were acting as sentries on either side of the camp’s entrance, which was little more than a gap in the hastily erected stone wall.


    Learning from my earlier mistake, I’d rearranged the sock padding in the face mask and made a better job of the grunted greetings as we passed one another. The eyes of the two roved over me with bored disinterest and the disguise passed muster. Enough that I entered the camp without challenge this time. Neither of the bored sentries looked down at my feet, it was the horns and grisly cape that garnered all their attention.


    I didn’t hang around for a conversation and made a beeline directly for the shrine. This behaviour didn’t seem entirely out of place for the camp. A few other monsters were headed in the same direction, either to pay obeisance to Carnax or to collect a meal from the leftovers of the sacrificial victims.


    An altar had been built in front of the prickly wooden shrine. Made from a large slab of granite, it dominated the space out front. No sacrifice was currently under way which was fortunate for me because it meant that security around the shrine was somewhat lax. A trough filled with the remnants of sacrificed slaves was off to the left as I approached. Two capronids and a much larger minotaur covered in short, black hair had their snouts buried in the offal and chewed away as if it were cud.


    The priestly shrine attendants were not at the altar. I could see them being groomed by a handful of slaves through the open flats of the largest leather yurt in the encampment that was off to the right and a little further up from the shrine. Ignoring the vile trough, I skirted around the other side of the altar and approached the base of the shine itself.


    Finally, this attracted the negative attention of the enemy. A white-furred priest, bedecked in decorations carved from bone and intertwined with his thick pelt rose from a bench. He slapped the slave brushing his coat with a small comb to the floor and barked out an angry warning in my direction.


    <Get away from the shrine, unworthy wretch> Quixbix translated for me, though I could have guessed as much from the furious gesticulation.


    There was no time to waste. I summoned the explosive alchemic charge and lodged it sticky side first against the primary column the shrine was built around and pulled off the activation seal. The alchemical components inside the trigger mechanism started to fizz and pop the moment they were exposed to the air. I only had a few seconds before the acidic trigger would eat through the thin layer of packaging and set off the charge.


    The minotaur, elongated bovine snout caked in blood and gore, looked up from the trough at the sound of the commotion coming from the Carnaxian priests.


    The beast was just in time to see me vault over the altar using Dragon’s Leap and cast a bandolier of smaller grenades behind me using my Grenadier skill. The bandolier collided with the upper branches of the tree-like shrine and got ensnared so as not to fall back down to the ground. The pins were still in, but the principal detonation would be more than enough to crack their casings and set these off too.


    All except for one that I’d slipped off the bandolier, primed, and tossed into the feeding trough with a plop.


    Landing on the snow-covered landscape, I didn’t wait to assess the success of my actions and kept my legs pumping to put as much distance between me and the imminent destruction. The leap pushed the hood of the cape back and the loose horns poked me in the back of the neck. The disguise was largely pointless now and I tore free the clasp and cast it aside. It would only slow me down or get in the way.


    The discarded cape flapped in the air and was trampled by the braying minotaur who had reacted quickest to my devilish reveal and was already in hot pursuit.


    The enormous beast had a much larger stride pattern than me, but I was considerably faster. The pair of us managed to make it about twenty metres away from the altar when the explosive went off.


    To be sure that the Blood Shrine would be destroyed, I used the largest piece of ordnance that I carried on me. Sheamus had designed the package so that portions of the whole could be easily removed if you wanted something with a little less boom.


    Not that the tainted-fae demolitions enthusiast could understand why you’d want to do that.


    Today, Sheamus would have been proud of me. I used the whole lot and the air around the centre of the camp thundered and lit up a fiery orange. The force of the explosion sent me sprawling forward and I hit the ground with what felt like a great weight landing on top of me.


    The searing heat of the explosion washed over the area and my notifications pinged to inform me of the self-inflicted damage which had been suffered. Just over seven hundred Hit Points worth. No harm incurred to my Health total. So, all good there.


    The more important update came from Quixbix directly. <The quest Culling the Cloven-Hoofed 5 is complete. 16,500 experience and the Shattered Information Crystal have been awarded. You can get the latter from a podium at your convenience. More importantly, the Blood Shrine’s area of influence is gone. My spy sight is working a little more reliably and can be used sporadically without giving you a splitting headache. You should be able to claim the Pandaemonium waypoint and call in the calvary now. First though, you have to deal with the angry bull pretending to be a comfort blanket.>


    Once he finished updating me, I felt heavy wet breath on the back of my neck. That hefty weight which had driven me to the ground had been the body of the minotaur. It had been propelled onto me by the force of the explosion.


    The good news, the minotaur had helped shield me from the carnage. The bad news, it wasn’t dead, but it was very pissed off and I had my back to it. Any MMA vet would tell you I was in a very precarious position and about to get battered. There were nor refs to call the match off here, though.


    With a pained, lowing grunt the great beast’s fist, encased in a steel gauntlet, slammed into the side of my face while its teeth bit down on the top of my head.


    The magic of the coif protected my exposed noggin from the worst of it and offered very high mitigation against the damage. Nevertheless, the Minotaur had incredible strength, and mitigation could only reduce the bill, not eliminate it entirely. Another four hundred Hit Points were shaved off my total.


    I tapped into my mana and refreshed Frost Armour which had been broken by the explosion. This bumped the mitigation to supreme and came with an extra benefit. It allowed me to pull the frosty porcupine trick. Icicles several inches long sprouted all over my armoured back and stabbed into the bellowing cow-beast that had me pinned to the ground.


    The minotaur reacted to the sudden prickliness under him and shifted its bulk just a little. The movement was enough and let me wriggle onto my side and turn my head to face the bastard. I activated a charge of Breath Weapon, and the minotaur ate a golden arc of lightning directly up its snorting, snotty nose. The creature’s eyeballs exploded when the current of electricity flowed through to its brain.


    With one last huffed whimper, it collapsed.


    That was a tad inconvenient. The beast was heavy, and my body and legs were trapped underneath it. I was strong enough to deal with its bulk and pushed the carcass off me and looted it at the same time. Once back on my feet, I was able to get a good view of the destruction I’d wrought.


    The Blood Shrine itself had been obliterated. Nothing remained of it. Even the stone base had been demolished and the altar nearby had been overturned and broken in twain. The offal-filled troughs and the two capronids face-first in them were nought but stains on the snow. That destruction was helped along by the alchemic grenade chucked over by them. Every tent structure that had been arranged around the shrine had been knocked down by the force of the explosion and most of them were on fire.


    The shrine attendants shrieked loudly in pain and horror. Most of them were disfigured and badly wounded from the shrapnel and more than a few were on fire. If they could still move, they were desperately trying to roll in the snow and put themselves out.


    The slaves they had grooming them were gone, almost certainly dead. I felt a little bad about their fate, but it couldn’t be helped. If I’d tried to save them first, the plan would have failed and then they would have been just as fucked as they already were.


    The quick assessment was interrupted as an arrow thudded into my chest.


    <Female cervitaur up on the ridge. At your one o''clock.>


    She was a good three hundred metres away and ensconced in an elevated position with a few small boulders that had concealed her position. The four-legged doe stamped her small hooves, drew back on the bowstring and sent another projectile in my direction. Her aim was excellent even from that distance and I only just managed to avoid the arrow by throwing myself to the ground and out of the way.


    “Eat a Chaos Missile, bitch!”


    With a finger-gun gesture, the magical bolt flew from my position on the ground and screamed across the distance between us.


    The doe attempted to dance out of the way, but now the makeshift bunker that hid her got in the way. She avoided a direct hit but couldn’t get far enough away to avoid the missile’s area of effect range. The blast took the doe off her feet, she went over the edge of the ridge and tumbled down the rocky scree of the mountainside. I doubted the doe was dead, those blasted things had nine lives like a cat, but she wouldn’t be in a position to harass me from afar for a while.


    <Might I suggest we make a sharp exit before the angry converging Horde arrives to exact their revenge?>


    “I’m in full agreement.”


    Miraculously, the alpha’s cape had somehow survived the conflagration. It had got caught on the minotaur’s armour protecting the knee joint and it was lying underneath its leg. The cape had been seriously singed, the horn element of the disguise had fallen out, and it had several sizable tears, but it couldn’t hurt to wrap it around me again. In this confusion, few of the Horde would be examining each other too closely. Anything that concealed my face might help.


    Again, I was thankful the camp was not that large. Encased in my diluted disguise once more, I fought against the instinct to run and kept my pace to a purposeful walk. Several other capronids and ovinids barged past, barely paying any attention. Their gaze fixed on the wreckage of the shrine, the heart of their worship.


    A few of them might have even been doing the equivalent of sobbing, though I doubted they were capable of actually weeping. They were far too bloodthirsty and lacked any form of empathy. Fear of the consequences is what drove their emotional response, not mourning.


    I reached the gap in the wall and was then met with a conundrum. The ovinid overseer stationed here had been one of the many who had abandoned its post. The two sentries at the gap had done similarly. The slaves were left unattended and continued to work on the wall. Compelled to obey the last command they were given by the collars they wore.


    “You’re a damn bleeding heart, Torin Carter,” I muttered to myself and rather than marching straight out of the gap, took a quick detour to the indentured workers.


    Once I reached the first in the line, I created an ice dagger and used it to cut the monster-created slave collar from his neck. Freed, I handed the shocked man the dagger. “Cut the others loose and then make a run for it while they’re distracted.”


    My good deed, perhaps driven by a pang of guilt over those slain in the attack, was done. Rather than go back to the gap in the wall, I vaulted over the top of it and started to run for the trail that led back to the tunnel entrance. A glance over the shoulder showed me that the freed man had followed my instructions and hadn’t simply pegged it leaving the others to their fates. Perhaps this would add another layer of chaos to the proceedings and slow any organised hunt in my direction.


    The chances were low that they would make it far, but if they could evade capture for a few hours then my troops would have arrived. Cleaning out this habitat of the herd infestation would be a top priority.


    However, there ended the clear run for the exit. The moment I reached the top of the trail and approached the boulder that would block me from view, I ran into a group of capronids coming in the other direction.


    It was grey-fur and his group. They must have spotted or heard the explosion in the camp and decided to come back.


    “You!” Grey-fur growled and pointed at me; his goat eyes narrowed in suspicion.


    Or at least, I assumed that was what the fucker grunted the second we came face-to-face.


    Any joy he might have felt at confirming the rude alpha was really a handsome Acheronian impostor was short-lived.


    The tip of the Goresteel Greatblade punched through the lower palette of his jaw and kept going until it skewered his brain. The disguise was pointless at this juncture, and I let it fall away for the second time, pulled the sword back out of grey-fur’s grey matter and swung it to the side. The well-aimed swipe disembowelled the goat-man alongside grey-fur, who fell backwards and tripped over the edge to tumble down into the frigid stream.


    Three of the remaining four were hot on the heels of grey-fur and bum-rushed me. The plan had been to force me over the edge, but I activated Dragon’s Leap, hopped on top of the boulder, and then used it as a springboard to come down amidst them.


    The minotaur had broken most of the Frost Armour icicles, but a few of them had survived and helped add a bit of extra pain to the gravity of my incoming body. My sword pierced between the collarbone of the centremost Capronid and slammed the point down into its black heart, killing it instantly. It collapsed to its knees, and I pulled the blade free and then went to work on the remaining two who had been knocked to the floor by the bodily collision.


    One was dead before it managed to get back to its feet. A quick stab through its eye socket killed it. The second swung a cleaver at my ankles while I dealt with his ally which connected. It hurt, but didn’t break through the boot’s armour and protected the tendons and ligaments from anything worse than light bruising.


    Cleaver-Goat had shot its shot; now it was my turn. I advanced on the goat-man’s position, and it tried to save itself with wide swings of the wide-bladed weapon, intended to keep me away. Meanwhile, the final capronid, who had stayed back holding the chain of the slaves they escorted, dropped the leash. With a bellow, it came at me with the halberd it had used as a walking stick.


    <Incoming behind you.> Quixbix warned me.


    Sensing the lowered halberd, I twisted and spun my body around like a running back evading a tackler. Having avoided the pointed tip of the halberd, I grabbed the shaft and yanked it forward, using the attack’s momentum to pull the wielder off-balance and keep the halberd moving until it connected with the gut of the cleaver-wielding capronid. Cleaver-Goat had misinterpreted the spinning move as a retreat and jumped at the opportunity to strike me down. It received a bellyful of polearm for its troubles.


    The halberd-wielder, now off-balance, desperately tried to keep hold of the weapon which only opened it up to a downward sweep of my Greatsword that severed the forearm just below the elbow. The capronid released its grip on the polearm and clutched at the blood-spurting stump instead. It didn’t have long to contemplate the new one-armed nature of its existence before the edge of my blade cut through the windpipe, and it quickly bled out.


    Cleaver-Goat yanked the halberd from its stomach and bleated in pain. Flecks of blood were spattered over the white of its snout hair. Its own for once. Two well-aimed ice daggers flew across the gap and embedded themselves in its creepy goat eyes. With the existing injury, it didn’t have the physical capacity to avoid the thrown weapons.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The whole battle was over in under thirty seconds.


    The four men who were chained together gaped at what had just happened.


    “Stand aside, you’re in my way,” I told them.


    Without fully comprehending the most recent events, they shuffled over to the inside of the trail and gave me enough room to jog past them.


    They stared at me with shock and wonder and pity tugged at me once more. “Follow me if you want to live. Keep up or I will leave you behind.”


    Twice in one day, I was acting as the liberator. If I weren’t careful, they’d start calling me Khaleesi, which would be embarrassing.


    It did take them a moment to understand the situation and then the one in the remains of a military uniform spoke up. “What are you waiting for Geoff? Do you want to be cut open jowl-to-groin, and then eaten alive?”


    Geoff, who was at the back of the line, shook his head forcefully and was spurred into action, followed by the speaker who’d been in the middle. That also happened to be the poor bugger I’d shoulder-nudged off the side. The alpha disguise was gone, and he might not have realised I was the one responsible for the litany of scrapes and contusions that covered him and his fellow slave’s exposed parts.


    With the four of them in tow, we exited the valley and crossed the snowy landscape to the tunnel entrance. I did slow my pace a little. The four men were malnourished and banged up. Not to mention, the shoes they were wearing looked to be falling apart and virtually useless as footwear.


    Thankfully, the trip back up the tunnel was uneventful. “Inside!” I ordered them and pointed at the waystation opposite the spiral staircase.


    “We can’t leave?” Geoff who was at the front of the group asked and stared forlornly at the marble steps to freedom.


    “Not yet.”


    I didn’t bother to wait and see if they had any further objections and summoned Claudia’s dungeon shard. If this worked, any questions about what came next would be academic. I slammed the crystal into the indentation and smiled at the notification that popped up.


    *** Do you wish to claim this waypoint? Yes or No? ***


    I didn’t hesitate to pick yes.


    There came a great grinding and whirring sound from above and the daylight which had filtered down from the open portal disappeared.


    “You took your time,” Claudia’s voice emanated from the shard-embedded column.


    “There was a complication that had to be dealt with. I could use backup asap.”


    “Understood. I’m linking the waypoints now.”


    Almost immediately the sound of boots stomping down the marble stairs thumped. It was music to my ears.


    LT was the first to make it to the bottom. “Captain Carter. What’s up?”


    “The Hooved Horde have infested the tunnels around these parts.” I pointed to where I’d just come from. “There is a snow-capped mountain habitat a few hundred metres down that way that we need to block off and then purge with extreme prejudice. Scout teams need to go in the other direction and discover if there are more of them. It has to be quick. I want a minimum of delays before we move on the fragment.”


    “No problem. I’ll get it done. Oh, and you might want to ask Claudia to give you a dungeon clean. You reek and not in a good way.”


    Self-consciously I lifted my arm and gave myself a sniff. I was still wearing what remained of the alpha’s chain shirt. Holey as it now was after my frost armour had poked through it. LT wasn’t wrong, I stank of rotten meat.


    The sacrifices I make to save the world.


    Chapter 26


    The crystal compressed in my fist and was crushed by the iron grip. The crumbled remains slipped through my fingers when I relaxed the hand and fell to the floor.


    “You tell nobody about this, do you hear me Quix?”


    <Understood Torin.>


    “I mean it. Nobody. Not even Quinn. We can’t afford for this to get out. No one can know.”


    <I understand the gravity of the situation. I won’t talk, not to anyone.>


    Claudia had briefly reversed the flow of the waypoint connection and allowed me to return to Stormblade Harbour and collect the prize for my completed quest.


    The Shattered Information crystal.


    It was good that I had taken the time, but a part of me wished I hadn’t. The burden of unwanted and dangerous knowledge can be immense.


    <You aren’t, you know, tempted, are you?>


    “At what? Godhood? No.”


    <Not even a little bit?>


    “Not even a little bit. We have an old Earth adage. Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely, with a long history of men and women who came to power and proved the adage true. Many of them believed they were good and righteous, right up to and beyond the point when unforgivable atrocities were committed at their direction. I can’t think of anything that would dehumanise a person quicker than supreme control of the Darkwyrlds. If you turn everyone into a literal puppet forced to dance at their direction, how long until that is all they see them as; things to do with as they please.”


    <You aren’t going dark and philosophical on me, are you?> the imp joked to lighten the mood.>


    “Nope. I’m just satisfied with my small piece of the pie. I don’t need everybody else’s to enjoy the flavour of mine. Besides, working for the next slice is all part of the fun.”


    The data crystal had lain out the details of Ashli’s Godhood mechanic. It contained information on the soul-harvesting organ that the fragment installed in Hudson’s body. How it worked, how to use it, where to find it, and how it integrated into Ashli’s wider plan for total domination.


    The organ was critical for creating a vessel capable of true divinity.


    Divinity in Darkwyrld terms.


    Keeping that information out of anyone’s hands was incredibly important, but that wasn’t the only reason I needed Quixbix to stay silent.


    If my suspicions were correct, there was an opportunity here. Not one that Ashli or most others could see.


    Nancy/Astariel couldn’t say it plainly, their madness wouldn’t allow it. But I had enough experience with the Shattered Goddess to parse the truth from what she could tell me.


    The organ could be used as a weapon if utilised correctly, one to be used against our mutual foe.


    Titus.


    But if this was to succeed, then there could be no hint the weapon was cocked and loaded until it was too late for Titus to avoid. The fewer people who knew the details, the less likely it was that somebody would let something slip by word or action and tip the bastard off. He was exceptionally long-lived and that made him wily. You had to be to survive this long and prosper in the way he had. A hesitation at the wrong moment, a furtive glance, the twitch of a smile, any of these unconscious mannerisms could show our hand early.


    We only had one shot at this, and it had to work.


    ***


    Putting future concerns to the side, I joined the troops on the other side of the waypoint. The strike force consisted of a little over one thousand of the best the Shattered Storm had to offer from those still fighting fit. Jackson was not the only one taking up a bed in our medical facilities. Fortunately, the crew of Marena’s Mercy had been insulated from the worst of the harm caused by the mercenary attack on Stormblade Harbour.


    LT had moved quickly and the snow-capped habitat down the corridor had been secured. The other passageways had been investigated and any wandering mobs executed before we barricaded them. Holding this area long-term was not a priority, but we did need a solid exit strategy.


    In short order, the surrounding territory was secured and loaded up with defenders. Piper and the fit members of Jackson’s Pandaemonium hunters would do the job of holding the region while we initiated the attack above. We were ready to go.


    Claudia dropped the connection between the Horicon waypoint and Stormblade Harbour’s. In near silence, nine-hundred and sixty warriors trooped back up the marble steps, past the twisted marker tree and out into the marshland. Once out, the early groups trotted over to the same small copse of trees where Raven dropped me off to keep them concealed from prying eyes.


    The small town of Horicon which the wildlife refuge was named after was roughly one mile southwest of the waypoint. Mayville, a similar-sized town was the same distance to the east. Although the intelligence garnered from General Howson indicated that Mayville was only lightly fortified with a small garrison. The bulk of the troops had been posted to Horicon. State Road 33 made it easier to transport the prisoners from Milwaukee.


    The dungeon Hudson had set up shop in was called Madness of the Manticore. No guesses as to what form the dungeon avatar adopted. Howson hadn’t known much about the interior during his debrief. Due to the dungeon’s high grade and level, few groups had ventured within and of the early delvers who had come out alive, they did not go deep before realising they were seriously outmatched and retreated. We only knew about the avatar because it liked to pop up early and taunt the delvers before flying off.


    If all went according to plan the lack of intel wouldn’t matter.


    Madness of the Manticore was almost due west of our position. Although we would have to angle a little northward to reach it. There was a river to cross, which the enemy had built a bridge over at the southernmost bend, closest to Horicon. To maintain the element of surprise, we wouldn’t use their bridge during the initial assault, though capturing it was part of the plan for the team assigned to the delaying operation.


    Minutes after the last of our assault force exited Pandaemonium, we were on our way. We split into two groups. LT led six hundred fighters south. They would interpose themselves between Horicon and the dungeon and establish defensive positions to prevent reinforcements from easily reaching Hudson and the dungeon. I took the rest to the river. This included Danny, Brant, and Tavar Aenarion’s expanded squads in addition to mine.


    The footing was a bit wet and boggy in places and the pathfinders had the dual role of finding the firmest ground while also flushing out and slaughtering the mobs between us and the target. A bit of gorse and heavy cattail running along the river’s edge assisted in covering our approach and we reached the water without serious incident.


    The river was about twenty metres wide. Once everyone was in position, we rushed down to the bank and the sappers in the assault team deployed pontoon floats and rapidly connected them, creating a temporary bridge for us to cross. I didn’t wait, Instead, I activated my boots and cleared the distance easily with the help of a run-up.


    Jumping ahead wasn’t purely impatience on my part. The moment we rushed out of the gorse and down to the embankment of the river, we could be seen by those stationed in the encampment that surrounded the dungeon. The whole thing had three layers of chain-link fencing topped with razor wire. It made the place look like a concentration camp which wasn’t too far from the truth given what the fragment-bearing Hudson was doing.


    Several three-storey sentry towers had been erected between the fence layers and it was the soldiers manning these emplacements who spotted us first.


    They would have seen us sooner, but the tower’s primary purpose had been to watch those trapped inside the perimeter of the makeshift prison. If the guards did let their eyes wander to the exterior, it was to scan around the outer fence for mobs attracted by the people inside, not across the river for possible attacking armies.


    Nevertheless, the moment we stepped into the open, the small army was spotted. I could see the sentry teams shouting and raising the alarm. Within minutes, the enemy-stationed troops here would know they were under attack, so there was no need to hold back.


    Three Chaos Missiles flew from the tip of my finger, screamed across the gap and exploded in the centre of each of the closest three towers. The tops of each were torn apart and several men were thrown from the perch like ragdolls. One of them landed groin first onto the razor wire of the outer fence. Not pleasant at all.


    Blasting off three missiles depleted my mana reserves, so I quaffed a restorative potion while the Wisconsin forces sorted out a response. Spells and a mixture of ranged fire zeroed in on my position which was away from where the sappers hastily constructed the pontoon bridge. Summoning a shield I rarely used, I deflected, tanked, or dodged the incoming fire.


    As intended, by the time common sense and barked orders redirected the enemy’s attention to the pontoon being built, it had been completed. Three hundred and sixty soldiers charged across in under thirty seconds.


    “Go! Go! Go!” I yelled unnecessarily.


    Everyone I’d brought knew what they were about.


    The distance between us and the fences diminished quickly. A few old-school landmines were tripped and went off that had been planted in the fields.


    However, once again, the intent had been to hamper escaping citizens, not stop fully armoured and experienced warriors from assaulting the base. The detonations took people off their feet and probably shaved off a few of their Hit Points, but they just brushed off the dirt and got back to their feet. It hardly slowed the advance.


    We reached the fence after thirty seconds of sprinting and went to work cutting through. The method employed varied from warrior to warrior. A few of the magic-wielders like Tavar created an intense blowtorch effect a few inches from the palm of their hands and melted their way through.


    Others used some acidic concoctions provided by our cadre of alchemists. Hoovering up and funnelling as many folk into that field had been one of the best investments the Shattered Storm had made. The value of the payoff grew with every encounter.


    Danny just uprooted the post the chain fence was attached to and bulldozed the way through for his squad. I reversed Goreblade to the side with teeth and sawed my way through the fence’s durability in seconds.


    It wasn’t quite as easy as cutting through butter, but the link fencing was unable to stand up to the rough treatment and parted from top to bottom and we poured through to the next.


    The fence didn’t offer much protection, but it did succeed in arresting our momentum long enough for the Wisconsin soldiers on site to organise a welcoming committee. Several of the men who counter-attacked wore a black jacket with grinning silver skulls on the epaulettes. A sign that they weren’t just part of Hudson’s Hardboys, the giant’s brigade of soldiers, but part of the Death Squad that the fragment had hand-picked to further its mission.


    “Show the death squad fuckers no mercy!” I cried and decapitated one such soldier, pointing at the uniform to make it clear who I was referring to.


    The crew didn’t need instructions or help identifying them. Scumbags always felt the need to advertise who they were when they believed themselves to be the ones in control. They got off on the intimidation and the sensation of power it gave them over others. It was only after everything fell apart that they discarded the uniforms and tried to blend in with the crowd.


    Not all those involved in the counterattack wore black jackets. There were plenty of regular soldier types in the mix too. Some of whom were quite experienced and posed some difficulties for the troops. There were a few deaths on our side too, but it didn’t take long before our greater experience and might shone through. They broke and ran.


    The part of the camp we’d penetrated was the prisoner quarters. With the watchtowers a smouldering wreck, the fence was torn down in multiple places, and the guards either dead or running, many of the prisoners made a run for it. Their flight only added to the chaos, but we didn’t try to stop them. There were bigger fish to fry.


    With no soldiers in the way, the path to the dungeon was now open.


    The dungeon had formed a towering structure in the middle of the marsh. It looked like a medieval cathedral replete with stone gargoyles and gothic architecture. Thankfully, according to my analysis that is precisely what the statues were, stone decorations, not an obstacle to overcome.


    The way inside was two massive, arched, iron-wrought doors that swung open as I approached.


    Hudson stepped out and blinked at the sunlight which assaulted his eyes and raised a green-tinted arm to block the offending brightness. I hadn’t seen the giant since watching him swim towards Marena’s Mercy after we broke the ice under the army he’d been leading. The last I remembered of him was the surprised expression on his face when a torpedo slammed into his chest and swept him away.


    General Howson had described him, of course, but seeing him in the flesh again was still a shock. The giant I remembered was built of thick muscle and bursting with vitality. The being who glared at the interruption to his macabre work resembled an emaciated junkie, albeit one that was over twelve feet tall. The eyes and cheeks were sunken, the long sea-green hair had started to fall out in clumps and the accompanying beard looked brittle and straw-like.


    Was this simply the effect hosting the fragment had on his body, or a side-effect of directly harvesting so much soul energy for the last week or more?


    Hudson shook his head and scanned the approaching soldiers until his malevolent eyes settled on me. “Carter!” he barked. “I should have known. You are too late fool; you won’t be able to stop me. All you’ve done is deliver a hearty final meal before my ultimate victory. One that I shall happily devour.”


    I readied myself for whatever attack the fragment was about to unleash, but he surprised me by smirking and waving his arm expansively, then stepped back over the threshold, back into the dungeon’s foyer area.


    That was when the notifications hit me.


    *** You have entered Madness of the Manticore. ***


    *** The grade of Madness of the Manticore has been temporarily boosted. ***


    Madness of the Manticore (Dungeon Core)


    Aeronautical Savage: Manticore (F) 37


    Threat: N/A (improper party for calculation)


    XP Value: 1,258,000


    Location: Horicon Marshland


    Dungeon Description: This is a beast dungeon with four chambers. Most of the threats inside will be beasts. The core avatar of this dungeon is frequently an active participant.


    The dungeon completion rate is 0%


    The previous run was a failure with a 100% mortality rate.


    The current minimum delving party strength is the equivalent of 185 levels of fifth-tier classes. 370 to 444 equivalent levels are recommended. Anything over 444 will reduce the rewards available for completion. A party with the equivalent of 740 levels is the maximum permitted. This dungeon has set a maximum of 20 participants per instance.


    Levels 26 through 37 of Madness of the Manticore is unconquered.


    *** Your current party consists of 342 members and is too large for Madness of the Manticore. As party leader, please kick party members until you meet the dungeon requirements. Kicked party members will be harmlessly removed from the dungeon environs. ***


    “Quixbix, what the hell is going on?” I had a pretty good idea based on the messages that had come through but wanted some confirmation before I did anything.


    <System fuckery, that’s what. Somehow, the fragment has altered the basic rules a dungeon operates under. The exterior part of its domain is now considered part of the dungeon proper, therefore, the dungeon laws it hasn’t altered have been applied. The maximum group size of who can be inside is twenty per instance. If you don’t reduce the size of your party, everyone will be removed from its range, and we won’t be able to reach the fragment if it successfully closes the dungeon. Not unless we break in and that is nigh on impossible.>


    “Damn it, that’s what I thought it meant. I hoped I was wrong.”


    <A dungeon of this quality can support many instances, but that minimum party strength is going to be a blocker for entry anyway. I’ve done the arithmetic, you can put together a party of twenty that meets the criteria, but that’s it. The rest of your crew and soldiers will be stuck outside the dungeon’s border, forbidden from starting a fresh instance via the qualifying criteria.


    <The only saving grace is that it appears the dungeon boost was limited to match the strongest person in the area, which was you. If the fragment could have pushed the minimum requirements even higher, I’m sure it would have done.>


    We didn’t have a choice but to play the Hudson’s twisted game. The risk was too great that the fragment already had enough energy to enact its plan. Pushing forward was the only option.


    “Form the strongest party we can and then kick the rest, Quixbix. I’ll explain what is happening to the others.”


    A quick use of Clarion’s Call and orders were issued to those who wouldn’t be coming with me. Soon it was just me and nineteen others.


    Tavar Aenarion, Brant, Danny, Fang Mei, Crynn, Nazz, and Doc were all with me. Amber too, her inclusion in the party was a bit of a surprise, but I trusted that Quixbix knew what he was doing. Plus, she had been like a demon-possessed of late when it came to hunting monsters for more XP. I was less familiar with the others but knew they were all competent fighters.


    It wasn’t the strongest delving party in the faction. Under normal circumstances, Ana and Claudia would be here as part of my package. Shana, Jackson, LT, and Kristoff were absent, plus a few of those commanding the ships navigating their way back from the east coast would otherwise have been part of the group, but it was a good mix and filled me with confidence.


    “Okay, on my six, it looks like we’re going on a delve.”


    The double doors, recently closed by Hudson blew open and thumped against the side of the wall. A mighty roar of challenge was followed by cacophonous screeches and calls from a menagerie of different beasts that blasted forth from within, followed by the unmistakable sound of clacking claws, pounding paws, and the flapping of oversized wings.


    “Or everything can just charge out of the blasted dungeon all at once because the fragment doesn’t give a shit about the rules. Bloody Nora! Is it too late to palm this off to somebody else who wants to be a fucking saviour?”