Chapter 218: ..Autarch's Key (2)

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***

I had spent the last hour searching by myself, leading at the front of the party.  Using a combination of my [Smell] stat and common sense, I was able to piece together a path that Delas might have taken.  But my skills were roughshod, so I came to a dead end soon enough.

That was when Stole paced by me.

The young beastman girl walked right by me, her torn cloak swishing by the soles of her boots.  She sniffed, once.  Not the way someone does to hold back the after effect of snot that comes after tears.  No, it was more purposeful and meaningful than that.  She pointed a finger.

“He went that way.”  She said without looking in my direction.

Stole crouched low to the ground, sniffed a few more times.  Her hands caressed the stony floor, looking for things that were visible only to her.  The dog-ears twitched a few times, swiveling.  

And without a word, she began to track.

I stared after her.

And after a moment,fell into step behind her.

And behind me… L’teya, Freier and–

…Just L’teya and Freier.

No more.  Just us four.

Never again, will I get to say Kyrian was behind me.  Never again, will he cast [Lightning Rain].  Never again, will I get to worry about his wellbeing.  Never again, will he run a raid with us, hunt monsters with us, have to go to the mage tower to get his Mana Cores–

‘Don’t think about that now.  Move.  Act.’

Listening to the detached part of my mind which was holding everything else together, I mimicked Stole’s movements and slinked forward.

A death doesn’t just end with death.

It ripples.

Like a single droplet that ripples across a vast lake.

The lives that Kyrian touched.  The friends that Kyrian made.

It wouldn’t end with just Stole and me.

Stole.  Aurora.  Even Arrosh.  Zenom.

…And I’ve killed more than my fair share of people.  I’ve done to others exactly what I was feeling now.

But it just felt so unfair.

“This way.”  Stole said monotonously.

We followed in silence.

Stole led us through the winding corridors.  I had the distinct sense that we were going up, which was proven moments later as our trek turned into a steep uphill, then into a winding staircase.  The more we walked, I saw increasingly more signs of Delas’ party.  Footsteps, blood smeared on the walls by accident, crumbs from jerky and rations.

Why had Delas stopped chasing after us?

He was following right behind Kyrian.  Using his men to hunt us.  So why did he stop and choose to continue climbing the Spire, leaving only his men to pursue?

The Key.  The Key was close.

“Mister… over here.”  Stole shuffled over to a spot, using her hands to trace unseen patterns.  “I think there was a fight here.”

Walking over, I stared at the spot she was pointing to.  “What do you see?”

“Blood.  Footsteps, but not the same ones from before.  Quick-footed… definitely from fighting, not marching.  Something attacked them here.”

“A monster?”  I asked.

“No,”  She cocked her head to the side, thinking.  “I think other adventurers.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to see if there was any [Smell] left in the area.  “I can’t smell anything.”

“Me neither.  Only Delas and his crew.”  Stole muttered.

That was weird.  “You mean you can’t smell who attacked them?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Like it’s a new smell?”  L’teya asked.

Stole let out a frustrated sound.  “No, I mean… whoever this attacker was, it’s like they weren’t there.  I can’t smell anything.  Zero.  Nothing.”

“An absence of smell.”  Freier chimed in.  “and no bodies to speak of.”  

That was… strange.

“Mister, the tracks lead right up there.”  Stole pointed towards a staircase not too far from us.

Approaching the staircase, I saw that it wasn’t like the others.

First of all, the staircase was set dead-center in the middle of the room.  It had no guard railings at the side, looking like it had been raised from the floor and attached to the ceiling out of nowhere.  It was wide enough to fit about ten people walking side-by-side.  It sprouted straight up from the floor, narrowing near the top.

And the entrance to the top floor was blocked by a veil of shimmering light that took up its entirety.

“We have to be near the top floor now.”  Freier muttered and I saw her glance at me through the side of her eye.  

How long had I been at this island?  Five days?  Seven?  More than a week?

And only now, did we just reach the top.

Stole took a step forward.  Reaching out, I stopped her by the arm.

“Mister?”

“Stole, this is the last push.  We need to ready ourselves.”

She opened her mouth to argue then stopped.  “We are ready.  Mister, we don’t even know where Sis Aurora or Skaris is–, we can’t waste–”

“Stole,”  I said gently, “calm yourself.”

“Calm? We’re so close, Mister.  We have to–”

“Or will you let Kyrian’s death be in vain?”

She stopped talking.

“Don’t mistake my silence for lack of grief, or urgency.  I know exactly what it is we have to do.”  My voice came out quiet, but because no one else spoke, they were the only things people could hear.  “We’re going to find the others.  Then we’re going to kill Delas Ender, Astelion Giantler and Tania Reddy.  Afterwards, we will kill Arione Popindale and Clover Weinport.”

L’teya flinched at the name of her two former party members.

I released the young woman’s arm, “Stole, this isn’t the first time you’ll want revenge on someone.  Don’t let it be the last.  So mark my words, and do everything you can to make sure this will be the final time we deal with them.”

Stole nodded slowly.

Me too, I had to return to the things I had to do.  What my role was.

Even if all I wanted to do was run up those stairs and kill every living thing in–

I took a deep breath.  “Half an hour.  Prepare your weapons, spells, charms, accessories, whatever you need.  After half an hour, we move.”  Then I turned to L’teya.  “A word, L’teya.”

The two of us found a small corner.

“Slaveborn, I–”

“L’teya, I’m going to kill Arione.  And Clover too.”

She frowned, taking a step back.

I stared into her eyes.  “I need to know your thoughts.”

“I…”  She said nothing at first.

I waited.

“Slaveborn, I understand you are in pain.”  She started, spreading her arms, “But what happened to your comrade, the human mage… it wasn’t due to–”

“It’s not about that, L’teya.”  I said quietly, “It’s about making sure it won’t happen to the rest of my comrades.”

I started, “Arione would kill them without so much as blinking.  Clover wouldn’t care either.  She’s too far gone, Lety.  I can’t have people like that behind my back forever.  It’s not the first time Arione walked into my life and ruined everything.  That stops here, in this place.  I’m sick of him.  And frankly, I’m tired of Clover’s shit too.”

“Clover never–”

“I get that we’ve never been really against each other.”  I cut her off, “Our parties have never fought.  So far, the vendetta has been contained between Arione and I.  But with this?  With Kyrian?”  

Without thinking, the anger slipped through the cracks and the hands I balled into fists slammed into the wall next to me, sending a spiderweb of cracks from the impact.  Within seconds, the obsidian wall began to repair itself.

“Arione isn’t leaving without the key.  And I sure as hell am not going to leave with without it either.  I owe it to Kyrian.”

“You said I could choose later, Slaveborn.”

“And that time is now.”  I snarled.  “L’teya, Daughter of Agda.  Choose, me or Arione?  Me or Clover?  Choose.”

“It is not that simple.”

“It can be.”  I replied.  “And it must be.”

“It is about Clover, and you know this, Slaveborn.”

“L’teya,”  I stepped closer to her, “Choose.”

It took only a second for the barbarian to reach a decision.

“My blade is yours, Slaveborn.  On one condition.”

“What is it?”  

“Let me talk to Clover.  If she surrenders… would you consider letting her go?”

I thought about it.  “If she surrenders, yes.  But that doesn’t mean she comes with us.  It just means I’ll let her go.”

“And you, L’teya?”  I asked.

“What about me?”

“What will you do after all this?”

And for the first time, L’teya actually looked offended.

“What do you mean, Slaveborn?  I’ll be coming with you.”  She smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.  “It is good to fight with you at your side again.”

“...Let’s get back to the others.”

While walking, L’teya proposed a question.

“Slaveborn, you haven’t considered one possibility.”

“What?”  But I knew what was coming.

She turned to me, with eyes that knew exactly what she was talking about.

“What if you can’t kill him, Slaveborn?  Not because you can’t…. But because you need him.”

I didn’t answer.

“That,”  She said, her eyes holding secret tales that I knew would remain just that, secrets.  “Is what you should be worried about.”

***

“Ready?”  I asked the everyone.

Freier answered on behalf of everyone.  “Ready.”  She shared a look with Stole, with the much younger girl nodding at her.

It looked like while I was having my own talk with L’teya, Freier had a moment alone with Stole.  Stole seemed much less hostile to Freier, and unless I was mistaken, they had some kind of bonding moment in that short amount of time.

That’s how a party works.

You fight together enough.  You stick together enough.  You watch each other’s back enough…

You help each other through the death of a comrade.  You forgive them for what they were before.  You start to accept them for what they are starting to become for you.

You become comrades.

What did I think about Freier and L’teya?  As comrades?

Maybe L’teya… and Freier… what about her?

To my surprise, my answer was complicated.

She was a [Player].  There was that.

But… did I hate her?

No.  I actually kind of liked her.  She was capable, smart, and definitely a hard-worker.  I could see her becoming a part of this… whatever this thing I had with L’teya and Stole.  This makeshift replacement party.

And I realized something else.

I missed my party.  Skaris, Aurora, and…

A pang of regret.

Kyrian.

A mage who I’d never see again.

I crumpled up those thoughts and shoved it deep away somewhere else.

“Ok.  Let’s go.”

And as one, the four of us climbed the stairs and entered the curtain of light.

A bright flash enveloped us.

And when it disappeared…

A stone tablet lay in front of us.

There were words on it.

And I immediately knew something was wrong.

｢ Welcome to the Top Floor of the Autarch’s Spire ｣

｢ You are the 3rd [Candidate of the Six Heroes] in Attendance ｣

｢ The Autarch’s Goal is Simple ｣

｢ Build your army.  Conquer. ｣

｢ Only one man may receive the Key ｣

A complete miscalculation from the first part.

I’d never considered this.

Because below those words…

｢ Candidate of the Grand Magus: Arione Popindale ｣

｢ Candidate of the Sword Saint: Lock Slaveborn ｣

…

｢ Candidate of the Autarch: Jared Akka Xalud ｣

Everyone was in the room, staring at me.

Skaris, Aurora –their expression of delight turning to confusion then Aurora’s face turning to one of horror as she looked at Stole.

Delas, sneering at me from across the room, surrounded by cultists.

And next to him…

Arione.

And a single figure approached me.

Green skin, a sinuously skinny body like a serpent.

The Orc Priestess.

And as she walked towards me…

She changed.

Her skin, shifted; it turned translucent at first, less green and eventually, a pale shade of pink.  Her hair began to fall off, the scalp turning smooth like baby’s skin and short sprouts of a man’s hair filling in.

The cloak around her fell to the floor… her breasts turned flat, then bulged into lean-whipcord muscles.

And her arm…

It fell to the floor, turning into liquid flesh.

And her face…

Turned.

She -no, HE- raised his one-remaining arm to his face and wiped it clean of the flesh-juice, his eyes half-lidded and a soft smile plastered on his face.

“Slaveborn.”  The Disgraced War Prince of the Turina Empire, Hero of the North… born between an Akka Xalud and an Orc Slave… 

Jared Akka Xalud greeted me.  “Glad you could join us at last.”