Daion shuddered. If he had understood correctly what the Book of the Primordial implied, it meant he would no longer be defenseless. Even so, he preferred to obtain it before the Corrupted made their move.
"I'm sorry to tell you," the entity replied, scratching her head, "but you don't have time before the noble arrives. If you did, I'd let you go for it."
It amazed him that she still kept that gentle smile despite being, essentially, on the verge of death. Her mental resilience was admirable. Then again, if she had existed for millions of years, the concept of dying probably felt almost routine.
Aelith watched the woman with pity, offering her a handkerchief to wipe the blood trailing down her chin. Daion sighed. It wasn't a bad deal—he'd gain power just by doing what he was already planning to do: win. Still, there were too many problems that weren't his.
He looked away, trying to avoid the entity's gaze—just in case she could read his mind through eye contact.
She said my decision wouldn't be a problem, but there's no way she actually means that, he thought. Aelith glanced at him curiously, and Daion noticed that the entity didn't seem to pick up his thoughts. So it was tied to visual contact.
If I refuse, she can't kill me without angering the Primordial, right? So worst case, I just get yelled at… Besides, I really don't want to do this.
Daion turned toward her, determined, but before he could speak, the entity's voice cut him off.
"Just so you know," Thero said with a playful smile, "I can read your mind even if you're not looking me in the eyes."
Daion clenched his fists.
"And how can you say that so damn calmly?" he challenged, unable to understand her composure. "How can you be fine with all of this…?"
"I'm not," she admitted, lowering her head sadly. "But like I told you, it's your decision. I can't force you to accept a fate you don't want. You're a living being too, and I could never resent you—every creature is a part of me."
Thero kept her gaze on the ground for a few seconds. Daion was stunned. She was nothing like the Primordial—humble, empathetic, rational.
Why does she have to be like this? Now I'm going to feel guilty for turning her down, he thought, frustrated and a little sorry for her.
Thero looked up and smiled sweetly, as if to say, without words: It's okay.
Damn it, damn it—don't fall for that, you idiot, Daion scolded himself, unsure if she was an expert manipulator or the purest being to ever exist.
"All right," he said finally, exhaling in resignation. The entity tilted her head, pretending not to know what he was about to say—though she clearly did. "Give me the damn device."
Daion extended his hand.
"What made you change your mind?" Thero asked.
"I like you," he replied simply. "Besides, it's not that big a deal, right? I just have to carry the thing and use it during and after the battle."
Thero's eyes widened, shimmering as if she were about to cry. Daion wondered if making a divine entity cry counted as a cosmic crime. Probably.
But she just smiled, closing her eyes as her body wavered, on the brink of collapse. She managed to whisper a single word before fading completely, just as Aelith grabbed Daion and the vessel, fleeing the dimension that was crumbling along with the spirit's thoughts.
"Thank you…"
They barely made it through the door before the place was swallowed by darkness. Daion wasn't too worried; he had the feeling that even if they hadn't escaped in time, Thero would've made sure they survived.
Aelith fell to her knees. The demihuman gatekeeper stared in surprise, then shut the door with a weary sigh. He didn't even ask where the beautiful green field had gone—probably used to it by now. He gave Daion a glare full of hatred, to which Daion just smirked before helping Aelith stand.
She sighed and grabbed him by the coat.
"We need to sleep before tomorrow," she said, guiding him onward. "But first, we can't just leave this anywhere."
She lifted the jar with one hand. They walked through what seemed to be the village's center—a large well stood there, where young demihumans drew water to drink straight from the bucket. Daion wondered if they realized how many diseases that could cause, though maybe the water was purified somehow.
They climbed the natural paths of the cave, getting close enough to brush the ceiling. Daion reached out, touching the cold stone. Then, out of curiosity, he struck it with his fist; the rock cracked, though only a shallow fracture appeared.
Finally, Aelith stopped in front of a house larger than the rest. Its frame was wooden, but its walls were made of fabric so thin that footsteps could be heard approaching from the far end of the cave. The windows were enormous and absurd, giving the impression that knocking on the door was just a formality.
The door creaked open, and a girl with deep navy-blue hair stepped out cautiously. She had something like antennae that gave off a faint glow. She flinched at the sight of Daion, but when she recognized Aelith, her expression softened into relief.
"So it's you two," she said, her voice carrying a lazy drawl. "For a second, I saw the Invoked and thought it was the end of us."
Her golden eyes shimmered with curiosity as she leaned against the doorway, letting Aelith pass with the vessel in hand. Daion followed, noticing the girl's skirt made of feathers. He found it odd that a demihuman would wear animal hide, but decided not to dwell on it.
Aelith let the vessel drop in the middle of the room. The hollow thud echoed loudly, making the girl wince and cover her ears before glaring at Aelith again.
"Rori, mind if I leave this thing here?" Aelith asked brazenly. The girl opened her mouth to answer, but the sheer audacity left her speechless.
"Perfect, thanks," Aelith added before she could respond.
She headed for the door, and Daion followed, lowering his head in apology for his companion's behavior.
"Sorry… see you around," he said, flashing a cheeky grin as he waved.
The girl watched them leave, then shouted after them,
"When I said this was your home, that's not what I meant!"
Her voice echoed down the corridor. Daion half-expected her to chase them down and scold them, but only heard her muttering angrily behind the thin fabric walls.
He shot Aelith a reproachful look, but she ignored him, pretending not to notice. They reached the exit once again, where Roi was waiting, eyeing them from head to toe as if checking whether they had stolen something.
"Where to?" he asked, his voice rough and exaggeratedly tired.
"How long are you gonna keep asking dumb questions? Obviously—to the border," Aelith shot back.
The boy squinted in resignation.
"Just doing my job," he muttered, lowering his head and pulling a keyring from his pocket. He ran his fingers through the keys until one fit into a slot on the rock wall. It glowed faintly, and a soft click echoed as the latch released. He opened the door, and Aelith walked through as if it were nothing. Daion bowed slightly in apology before following her.
Once outside that hole, Daion took a deep breath and looked at Aelith. She raised her eyebrows, suspicious.
"What?" she asked, as if it weren't obvious.
"You're rude," Daion scolded, settling his sword on his back as he watched the tip still reconstruct itself. "I thought you were only like this with me because I'm Invoked, but apparently you're like this with everyone, aren't you?"
Aelith sighed, staring up toward the slope before she began to walk. Daion hurried to catch up. She growled in annoyance and lowered her ears.
"What do you want?" she asked, baring her fangs.
Daion watched her warily, careful not to misstep. He only sighed, then—calmly—placed a hand on her head. She bristled instantly, a faint trace of aura escaping, but Daion simply stroked her hair. Her reaction was immediate: she let her guard drop.
He withdrew his hand and kept walking.
"It's nothing. I just wanted to point it out," he said as he made for his room. She watched him, baffled.
Not a good time to scold her yet, he thought. Sermons work only when they respect you. For now, leave it be and move on. He yawned theatrically, mentally ticking off the things he'd have to do later. For now: sleep. Yes… that's the plan.
"So the vessel will be safe with that girl?" Daion asked, remembering the task.
"Yes. Nothing will happen to it there. We just wait. If we survive the dungeon, it will have been worth it; if not… nothing is lost," Aelith reasoned, looking at the ground.
Daion nodded. Despite everything, Aelith seemed a better strategist than those useless leaders.
They reached the room. Daion fell onto the hard mattress; Aelith moved as far from the bed as possible, determined to avoid another incident like on the first day.
"Get some rest, brat," Daion muttered, burying his face in the pillow. Aelith only growled in begrudging agreement and fell silent.
He was just about to fall asleep when a harsh light struck his retinas. He raised his head—and wanted to strangle someone at the sight of sunlight (or whatever little the fog allowed through) filtering through the window.
Aelith lifted her head and uttered a furious groan, kicking.
"How is this possible? We were gone an hour!" Daion protested, feeling his eyelids grow heavier.
"Is it a bad time to say that time passes differently in the other dimension?" Aelith murmured, trying to cover her eyes with her tail.
Daion ground his teeth.
"AND YOU TELL ME NOW?!" he shouted, leaping out of bed.
Aelith flinched at his angry face. She sprang up and started running around the room on all fours while Daion tried—and failed—to catch her. In seconds they wrecked the room: the wardrobe splintered, the bed was a mess—the place looked more like a battlefield than a sleeping chamber.
Aelith rushed for the door and paused to open it. Grave mistake. Daion tackled her; both went tumbling over the threshold and rolled on the floor. Daion wrapped an arm around her neck and rubbed his knuckle across Aelith's head; she scrambled, trying to claw at his face like a cat to free herself.
Then they realized everyone was outside their rooms watching the fight. They scrambled up, slightly embarrassed. Loryn stood in the doorway, hood up; Daion knew he was smiling under it—the bastard.
"Knew you'd be excited about the mission, but I didn't expect you to wake up this energetic," Loryn said in his usual sarcastic tone. Daion was sure he'd heard them arrive. "Sorry to disappoint, but we don't have time for a nap. Move."
Daion shuffled through the stronghold toward the outer gate. He looked exhausted, with a fear in his expression that could chill even the demon Behemoth. Aelith walked beside him the same way: they both looked like zombies.
Loryn ordered the gate opened; the guards obeyed without demanding the usual paperwork. Last time Ken had taken an hour with those forms—this is the influence of a Rank A, a champion, Daion thought as he followed Loryn.
"Is it just the three of us?" Aelith asked, nervous.
"We don't have time to be slowed by more people. Besides, it's not an 'official' mission: we're going to get stronger by clearing a dungeon," Loryn replied as the stronghold fell behind the horizon. "Keep this in mind: once inside, it will be almost impossible to measure time. We can't afford to dawdle—if we take more than eleven days, we'll lose. The fortress will have to be evacuated."
"Also, we need time to find somewhere Thaloren and the noble can fight," Daion added, weighing possibilities. "Aelith, are you ready to fight?" he asked, meeting her eyes. She frowned.
I really don't like fighting for these damned humans, but if it's for Lady Tero… he thought, his hands trembling.
"I will," she answered. Daion allowed himself a brief smile.
"All right," Loryn said as they reached the top of the hill, "there's a dark opening down there. These will be hard days. A dungeon is called that because it becomes a nest of corrupts—large enough to generate a constant stream of enemies, a place where they keep kidnapped women, and so on. We'll have two goals: locate the corrupts' origin point, destroy it, and collect as much Omega energy as possible along the way."
Daion nodded, his gaze fixed on the darkness yawning before him.
"It might sound a bit arrogant," he said, unfolding his status menu, "but my goal is to get as close as possible to the rank required to win."
[Summoned's Stats]
• Strength: Level 25 (Gorilla)
• Dexterity: Level 19 (Cunning Fox)
• Endurance: Level 17 (Numb)
• Agility: Level 20 (Usain Bolt)
• Intelligence: Level 12 (Shrewd)
[Divine Artifacts]
• Sword of Punishment (Rank E)
• Omega Gauntlet (Rank E)
• Assault Armor (Rank D) – partially damaged
[Summoned's Evaluation]
• Omega Energy Absorbed: 1200Ω
• Level: 10
• Rank: Aspirant
[Abilities]
None.
He hadn't had time to repair his armor, and his stats remained the same. For now, he could only release Omega Energy through his gauntlet and manipulate it in limited ways — the most basic skill a Summoned could manage. How do I even get stronger?
"How much energy do I need to reach Rank C?" Daion asked. Loryn thought for a moment.
"Around two thousand, though it varies depending on the Summoned and their divine abilities," the hooded man explained. Daion cursed under his breath — having a useless god is a pain in the ass. "But that alone won't be enough. If it were that easy, you could just kill a few things on the surface and reach it without trouble. No — if everything goes well, we'll push you halfway through Rank C. Our goal is five thousand Omega Energy."
Daion nodded. It wasn't hard to grasp: he had to become strong enough to withstand Loryn's control over his body. He didn't have much choice but to go along with it.
"Inside, stay close. Large dungeons are labyrinths filled with deadly traps," Loryn warned, unslinging his rifle.
Daion lowered his head. Aelith sharpened her claws. Together, the three descended into the dungeon's entrance.