Savage Awakening 544. Threats

“The disguise amulet. The one you used for ‘Jack’—might I see it?”

Zane pulled it out. “You’re quite keen on this thing.”

“It’s a fine disguise,” said Noughtfire, shrugging innocently. “Put it on, if you will.”

Zane did. Noughtfire inspected him.

“Needs refinement,” he said at last. “If you would.”

Zane handed it over, and Noughtfire took out a steel rod etched with runes. He tapped the crystal once, which hummed.

When Zane put it on again, he found his mustache was slightly darker and broader. There were a few other minor differences—the glamour was slightly taller and leaner.

Noughtfire inspected him again and nodded, satisfied.

“Much better.”

“…Sure.”

He narrowed his eyes at Noughtfire, who kept up a poker face.

Shenanigans were definitely afoot here.

He just went with it. He stuffed it back in his bag of holding. “Anything else I need to know?”

“The Pure Yang lands are rife with meteor showers, among other disasters. You’ll need somewhere to make camp.”

“No worries, I’ve got a setup.”

Reina had given him a ladder that, once stood up, opened up a hole at the top—as though going into some unseen attic of reality. Climb through it, and he ended up in a pocket-dimension apartment about the size of a skyscraper floor. It was keyed so only he’d be able to access it. She’d stocked a few cabinets with top-tier healing elixirs, including ones that’d repair Destruction scars. Evan had contributed a jar of cookies.

“Then all you’ll need to do is visit Mount X,” said Noughtfire. “There’s no map this time. Records from that time are rather sparse, as you might imagine. But for this mountain, you don’t need one. Ask a local to point you in the right direction, and you’ll be fine. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Gotcha.”

They were getting into the final stretch of Zane’s long grind—this hundred-year interwar period. He’d spend this Astra stretch claiming his Starfire Concept. Then he was off to the Barbarian Sage to train his final Concept… if he was to do all that, and also break through to True God, he’d have to make haste.

He asked Noughtfire about it.

“I expect two decades is a reasonable estimate, with diligence,” said the old fellow. “Perhaps less. There are others there after the same goal you are, others who may have insights that’ll speed things along as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was the second time Noughtfire mentioned getting in touch with local folk. He did wonder what that was about—the old fellow never said something unless he had a very specific reason.

“There’s another time traveler involved,” Zane guessed.

“It certainly wouldn't be uncommon there."

“Someone you don’t want recognizing me yet.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

…There was definitely another time traveler involved. At least one.

“Well then.” Noughtfire clasped his hands behind his back. Zane got the sense he was trying not to smile. “I’ll see you on the other side, disciple. Do let me know how it turns out.”

***

The smallest floor of the Superdungeon was not a cell at all. It was a room just a few dozen paces across, shaped like a cylinder and walled with stone. It offered windows that stared out into an well of infinite nothingness.

Near one edge, there was a corner of sorts—a little cot, neatly made. There was a nightstand with a few philosophy tomes, coming-of-age novels, and biographies. A series of bookcases, stacked heavy with much of the same fare. Shelves and shelves laden thick with annotations made in neat little script.

There was a post that hung with giant rings. Each ring was rife with keys. An astonishing number of keys, nearly fifty to a ring, and of astonishing quality too. Each was of Origin-grade bronze.

There were a few other shelves too, where there were sculpting tools, and beside them little sculptures of animals. A bird here, a tortoise there. They were well made, crafted with clear care, though they weren’t quite right—as though whoever had made them hadn’t seen these animals in a very long time. So long he couldn’t quite remember what they looked like.

But you wouldn’t notice any of these things if you took a scan of the room, not at first. Your eyes would be drawn straight to the center of the room. There, fragments of images swirled in the air, exposing this place’s true purpose.

Each fragment showed a floor of the Superdungeon.

The bigger ones, lower down, showed the ‘Troubled Zones’—where the strongest of the monstrous threats were kept in conditions of maximum confinement, a zone stretching around 30 floors, going down to the farthest depths of the Superdungeon.

But more than half those floors were emptied out; there were giant holes punched through their skies.

The images swirled like a bad omen.

Below them lay a giant eldenwood table. Once a warmly colored, sturdy thing. But it had recently been broken in two and welded back together with a line of seething Corruption.

Below that table, slumped on the ground, was a massive figure in an iron mask, lying in a pool of black blood.

The gaoler of the Superdungeon, the Keeper of the Keys himself, the Faceless One. Brought low.

A swathe of giant needles stuck through him. A few pierced his heart; more pierced his head. He trembled and groaned. But even an Empyrean of his stature couldn’t move a muscle.

Two shadows examined him.

One of them whistled. He was a hunchback whose back-muscles protruded quite severely and one of his eyes was fully red, as though a few blood vessels had burst deep within. He looked very much like a human, and he felt like one in the Astral Plane too—a human badly stained. The core of that eye was Corruption black.

“My, my. You’ve outdone yourself, Doctor. How’d you manage it?”

“Precision,” said the other. Tall, balding, in a long white coat that dragged as he walked. “Knowledge, and precision. Any man is merely a collection of nerves and flesh. That is true even of the strongest of their kind. It’s no great difficulty to unmake them.”

“Very impressive,” said the hunchback. “You work so dutifully. Might I say—the most dutiful of Master’s Primes? And yet he never seems to pay you your proper credit! Even this great feat won’t mean much, I fear. Master just doesn’t seem to like you nearly as much as the others… why is that?” 

“I give him prudent counsel,” said the one called Doctor stiffly. “I don’t slobber over myself to get in his good graces.”

“Such spine. Such integrity! With your moral backbone, you ought to be fighting for mankind, Doctor.”

“The irony,” sniffed the Doctor.

Then they stiffened.

Six crimson eyes opened mid-air. An ancient aura made its presence known. The eyes scoured the room and came to rest on the Gaoler. 

Gaoler… at long last. Malzareth hissed with pleasure. 

The Gaoler said nothing—he couldn’t. Malzareth’s eyes went to crescents. Lord Malzareth felt you sneering from your little tower—did you think he hadn’t? All those millennia, never thinking you’d one day face the consequences... But this was all seen by Lord Malzareth. All seen, all known... even as you sneered, your Fate was written. There will be time enough to deal with you. 

It turned to its minions. 

Hreinn. Ghoul. 

“Master,” said his minions, kneeling. 

Your kin Cromm, the Meat King, has been freed by my hand.

The hunchback laughed. “Very good, Master, very good! Two dragonhearts says the hard part wasn’t even breaking the chains. It was waking up the lazy bastard!”

Indeed. By decade’s end Eight of the Nine will be free. All that will remain is the Mirror Dragon… another decade, and she shall be unleashed as well. Just in time for the End…

“A thing Aiwe never could’ve seen coming, no doubt,” cackled the hunchback. “Come now, Doctor. What’s with the face? It’s a time for celebration, is it not? Look what our Master’s done!”

“It is a feat, defeating the System like this,” said the Ghoul Doctor. “But there’s yet work to be done. We knew we could free the Nine. Threats yet remain in Dragonspire. Threats that, if given time to grow, may prove grave yet. The matter of Zane—” 

At that name, the red eyes narrowed. The mood seemed to change. 

The hunchback groaned. He turned to Malzareth. “He’s got an obsession with the man. I’ve never seen a Prime quaking like so over a mere Minor God…  I fear you’re overestimating him just a tad, my friend. Spare Master your prattling, will you?”

The hunchback gave a shit-eating grin. The Doctor ignored it.

Speak, ghoul, said Malzareth. I would hear your counsel. 

“Zane,” said the Ghoul Doctor. “In my estimation, nears a critical point… if he is to be stopped, it must be attended to immediately. At True God he might well match Endbringer strengths—” 

Hreinn scoffed.

“I will only speak the truth to you, Master,” said the Ghoul. “Your Father mandated it of me. At True God, he may well be akin to a top Hegemon ranker… he will still be no match for the greatest of our kind. But if Zane is allowed to reach Empyrean, with what he showed last duel, he may well prove an existential danger.”

You believe Zane Walker can threaten me at Empyrean.

The Doctor’s brow creased. “I… did not say that.”

Hreinn laughed. “He does, he does! Just look at his face! Such little faith in our Master. And such great faith in Zane! Why, I wonder—”

At a glare from Malzareth, he choked off. 

Tell me, ghoul… what other thoughts might you have to share?

“Reina. The Mistress. If she truly awakens the World Tree… she, and Zane, as a duo… In my estimation it would be in our best interest to eliminate them in the next three decades.” 

Is that all?

“Yes.” 

All these things… you say them, as if I did not know them. As if they are not already carefully planned for. Malzareth's eyes gleamed. Do you take me for a fool? 

Hreinn sniggered. 

That woman…

It spat the words with real hatred. She dared strike Lord Malzareth—dared think herself capable of outwitting me! Fool woman. There are things set into motion which she cannot possibly conceive of, things her precious Zane cannot shield her from…

The aura in the room weighed so heavily even the Primes had to stagger.

I will see to her tortures personally. As for Zane Walker… That is a man I crushed with an invention made on a whim. I had him broken every which way a man can be broken, including in the mind! If my Slayer had but struck once more, you would not still be here, entertaining these little fantasies. He only yet lives because of that woman’s intervention. Lord Malzareth crushed him like this, and with ease… You do not believe I can do it again, just as easily, now that my powers return, one by one? Now that more and more the restrictions loosen—now that freedom is at hand at long last?