Chapter 223: Autarch's Key (7)

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Claw’s Nest and the Spire within it.  

The Top Floor of the Spire.

The theme of all these Dungeons was simple.

Sacrifice.  Just how far would you go to claim the Autarch’s Key?

This Key would open up the dungeon beneath the Samak Desert, allowing one to enter the Autarch’s Fortress.  In here, you’d encounter the [Autarch], the grade-SS boss of MSS and all the bosses that were related to him.  Following it, you’d get all the loot.  The Autarch’s armor, his weapon and even some of his accessories if you were lucky.

Ah, even for one-time bosses, there was a loot table with %s.

Regardless… it was worth it.  Because even if a single accessory dropped, an item from one of the [Six Heroes] was worth more than anything that another SS-grade boss could drop.

You begin to see why the [Autarch’s Key] was so valuable.

Hence, why this dungeon itself was so difficult.  

You have to remember, MSS is a game meant to make the Player suffer.  It’s difficulty isn’t just there for show –it’s for keeps.

So again, the theme of this Dungeon… Sacrifice.  Just how far would you go to claim the Autarch’s Key?

The first room, where you were locked in a room with 8 other people and only four could get out. 

Sure, it looks simple at a glance.  But was it?

Let’s say your party is made of two bladers, a shielder, and a mage.  Let’s say the other party is made up of a healer, a mage, a shielder, and a wayfinder.

The first party needs a wayfinder and a healer.  The second party needs a blader.

A [Player] of a game who was in the middle of playing MSS… maybe if you were roleplaying the game, you’d not care about the Healer and the Wayfinder in the other party.  Maybe you’d rather just keep the characters you raised and try to beat the Dungeon that way.

MSS’ difficulty doesn’t allow that.

There would be a cutscene.  A dialogue option.  Something that the videogame threw at you, an option that served as a point of temptation, to create tension and emotional disturbance with the possibility of what if.

What if your party wasn’t strong enough?  What if you could get rid of one of your bladers and bring in a healer instead?  What if you could get rid of the wayfinder and bring is a blader; after all, the only direction in the Spire was up?

Most people who played MSS the first time might choose to keep their party.  The other party were strangers after all.  Play it once or twice, you begin to understand how difficult it was.  How grueling and devastating a TPK could be, starting over from the beginning from a RANDOM STARTING SETTING.

You would lose everything.

So why not?...

Why not make the choice that created bigger chances of clearing the dungeon and survival?

After all… there was no limit to the number of randomly generated NPCs that could replace your current party members.

So little by little, MSS players begin to change.  They bend the personal rules.  Honor?  There is no room for such thing.  To beat the game… you change who you were –no– you become who you were meant to be.  You learn not to get too attached to the NPCs that are in your party.  You learn to keep your distance.  You learn to click the right dialogue options, offering ‘honeyed’ words to the female elf archer who you need for a dungeon –only to replace her with a beastman crossbowman who has much better stats and equipment and call him your best friend.

You learn to calculate things.  Who offers what.  Who is a drag.  What’s the weakness to the party.  Who to bring is to make the party stronger.

What I’m saying is this. 

The [Autarch]’s Spire was about Sacrifice.  It was testing the very mettle of the [Player] going through the trials of the dungeon…

Just how suited they were to be a commander in MSS.

How far were you willing to go for Victory?  How much were you willing to give up to seize the treasure that this Spire had to offer?

Just how low would you sink as a Human?

The lore of the Autarch said that he was a fearsome god-king-general.  One who ushered in the golden age of the Orcs, bringing them out of the underworld caverns and into the overworld.  HEre, he waged war against the other races.  Against the humans, the elves, the dwarves, and the beastman.

He killed many.  Hundreds of thousands, millions.

And he got just as many of his own killed.

All in the name of being a savior grace to his people.

Behind the metal armor, the harsh demeanor, the cold calculating gaze of a general…

Was an Orc Man whose heart bled for his people.

To do what was necessary, he had to sacrifice his own people.  

I don’t know if everything I said is right or wrong.  The world isn’t that binary, it’s not made of 1’s and 0’s. 

It just is.

Jared asked me. “Tell me who, Slaveborn.  And I will save the rest.”

There was no way the four of them could defeat the Kirin.  That was impossible.

A grade-2 monster at this point in the game?...

Even contained in the magical walls which divided the us from the beast… I could feel the air vibrate with latent energy, at the sheer hulking presence of the beast.  A different type of presence from the Imugi who filled the very space before you –a hidden type of power that crackled with potential; the thing people feel when they comprehend just what an Atomic Bomb could do for the first time.

There was no way for Jared, Zenom, L’teya and Arrosh to survive for fifteen minutes.

They could…

But the only person alive would be Jared.

And the only reason the Kirin didn’t turn itself on the War PRince was because the others were so loud and it was convenient to toy with them instead.

So I had to choose.

Who to sacrifice?

If I wanted the Autarch’s Key, to prove myself ‘worthy’ in the eyes of Claw’s Nest Spire… who did I have to give up?

As much as I’m Lock Slaveborn…

I can’t give up who I was before.  A [Player] of MSS.

My head automatically turned to the possibility of numbers.

And the name I came up with… was not the name I said.

“...L’teya.”  I whispered, my voice harsh but soft, “Grab L’teya and put her in the chalice.”

As the broken words escaped my mouth, I felt Clover’s gaze turn to stone and rest on me with the weight of blame, regret, horror, and everything else that could sum up just what we’ve turned into.

Abhorrence.

Hatred.

Despise.

Loathing.

Disgust.

…Betrayal.

And Jared’s smile was nothing but wickedness incarnate.

His lips opened, and scaled words slithered out with iniquity of a thousand whores.  “Thank you for proving that I made the right choice.”

Then he ran towards the Chalice.

And just when the Kirin lifted it’s head to take notice of his movement, Jared leaped.

And he disappeared midair.

The air above his skin began to flip, the way you’d see cards being flipped at a blackjack table.  Like someone took the air, separated it into crystallized hexagonal shapes and then started turning them over one by one; the plated oxygen flipped and immediately turned into nothing with the added effect of turning Jared’s skin beneath them the same color, shape, and shade as empty air.

[Quantum Stealth].

A Grade-2 Monster’s ability… 

Completely erasing the War Prince from Sight, Smell, Hearing, and even the sense of touch. 

In gaming terms, Untargetable to single-targeting abilities, skills, and spells.

A split second later, Jared Akka Xalud reappeared above the chalice and dove right in.

The effect was immediate.

The moment his body touched the surface of the empty Chalice, it immediately splashed over with invisible liquid and began to bleed red.  The naked body of the War Prince opened a mouth in a silent scream, muffled by whatever was present within the Chalice but the ensuing bubbles soon surrounded him and covered him from view.

The man-sized Chalice bubbled for a few more moments…

Then,

｢ The first lesson of a commander ｣

｢ Some battles are not meant to be won｣

｢ The role of a rearguard is to be thrown away｣

｢ Sacrifice one of your own in the chalice and I will grant you reprieve from this trial ｣

…

｢ Sacrifice Accepted.｣

The Kirin looked up and opened his maw to let out one gut-wrenching equine-scream before he dissolved into motes of light and floated away towards the sky-high ceiling.

And the magical curtains came down.

It was like someone had hit me in the head.  I had no time to react to Jared’s words or his actions, no time to digest or mull or try to understand just what had transpired.

The only thing in my head were Zenom’s moans, L’teya’s still body, and Arrosh’s legless visage.

“Freier!”

But even before I had yelled out her name, the elven priestess rushed forward with Aurora right behind her.

But ours weren’t the only magical curtain that had come down.

The magical curtain came down from the other Party’s areas too.  Meaning that Delas and Arione’s group were free as well.  But the no violence rule was still in effect, I could feel the faint hum of magic in the air that prevented us from harming each other outside of the trials.

“Lety!”

Clover let out a ghastly shriek, crossing the space between them without hesitation.

Arione put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.  His expression was hard.

Of course.  What wounds L’teya sustained was an advantage for them.  What mana that Freier expended was the same.

The next few minutes was nothing but grunts of pain as painwracking health potions were used to close open wounds, and beads of sweat that dripped from the Healer’s faces dampening the tiles as they regrew lost limbs and torn skin.

“Enough, Slaveborn.”  Zenom became coherent enough to speak, his shoulder a fresh pink that was painful to the touch.  Freier had to practically regrow a fourth of his torso.  The Kirin had been stripping fistful of flesh with each lick from its barbed tongue.  “Reserve your Healer’s mana.”

“I–”  I started but Arrosh interrupted.

“The Holy Knight speaks truth, my Disciple.”  Arrosh mumbled, his blind eyes downcast.  “For you and yours must walk the path of ruin which we fell on.”

Freier rescinded her hands.  

L’teya grimaced and rubbed her shoulder, stretching it.  There were lightning-shaped scars all across her body, freshly pink and swollen –evidence of the internal damage that the stone-cracks wreaked across her body.  “Slaveborn, the War Prince…”

Had she heard me say her name?  Had she not?

I couldn’t tell.  She wasn’t acting any differently.  Or maybe the close brush with death was covering everything up.

“I wouldn’t worry about the War Prince.”  Zenom muttered, getting to his feet.

As if on cue…

There was a splash.

And one pale thin arm rose above the water of the Chalice and grasped over the edge of the cup, dragging the rest of the body behind and summoning it from the depths of the human sacrificial altar.

Jared’s plain eyes shone as his body jerked like an electrocuted puppet.

He smiled and jumped out of the chalice, his body pale as a corpse.

“Oh Light…”  Aurora swore.

Skaris and Stole snarled.

I wanted to curse too.  I had lost control and understanding over this situation the moment we stepped foot into the top floor.  There were things going on here.  Political moves, social understandings and the stakes –everything was more than I had bargained for even knowing that this was just a facade for something bigger. 

One thing was for sure.  Jared was a political player of Turina who wasn’t even on the same playing field as us.

What did he want?

But time hadn’t stopped.  It had only paused for a brief respite.

Because the magical curtains were rising back up.

Once more, the portal of a Grade-2 Monster opened up.

And the magical letters shone.

 The first lesson of a commander ｣

｢ Some battles are not meant to be won｣

｢ The role of a rearguard is to be thrown away｣

｢ Sacrifice one of your own in the chalice and I will grant you reprieve from this trial ｣

And this time…

The party in the center.

Arione.

The Bishop.

His two bodyguards.

And Clover.