Monarch Chapter 63

Chapter 63

The dungeon core room was half as big as the boss chamber. A purple-coloured orb sat in the middle of a stone podium, pulsing softly with light. The core that ran the dungeon, but Rayne’s eyes didn’t linger on it.

Instead, he stared at the bedroll that sat at the edge of the room. Pieces of charcoal were spread beside it, and there was even flattened straw. None of those things belonged in a dungeon.

“Do you think that—”

Rayne began, and Bran cut him off. “Yes. Signs of habitation. Someone was living here in the core room. And see this—this is what was on top of the bedroll.”

Bran held out pieces of parchment. Rayne took them and unfolded one. A crude sketch of an undead stared back at him, drawn with charcoal. Similar sketches filled the other pages, and one of them even had little scribblings that he couldn’t read.

The words had mixed together to form something incomprehensible.

“None of this makes sense to me,” Nate said, moving along the room and touching the walls. “Someone was living here with these undead. How is that even possible?”

Kesh agreed with a nod. “Yes. What were the undead doing here in the first place when the treant was clearly meant to be the boss?”

Rayne didn’t reply at once.

So many questions and theories swirled in his mind, mixing together and giving him a headache. But with so many clues, it was becoming clear what was going on.

Back in the bug dungeon, he had simply assumed that the undead were a part of it. He had treated it as an exception to what he knew about dungeons. But that was clearly false now.

The undead weren’t a part of that dungeon, nor were they part of this one. Someone had clearly entered with them, and left them behind. For what reason, he had no idea, but only one type of mage could control undead.

Even his predecessor had been taught about them.

“A necromancer,” he said. “One of them was here and left behind the undead.”

At once, everyone turned to him. Only Bran looked composed, probably having come to the same conclusion, while the others wore expressions ranging from shocked to confused.

“Don’t joke with us, Rayne,” Kesh said. “What would a necromancer be doing in the Pascar Plains? They’re hunted by the churches of most gods, and even the crown has placed a bounty on their heads.”

“Then how do you explain the undead lord when it didn’t belong to the dungeon?” Rayne sighed. “I also faced undead on the third level when I fell down, and the dungeon rooms were cleared there. I believe the same necromancer went through that dungeon too.”

“But it could also be one of the undead dungeons spilling out,” Heins muttered. “Dungeon outbreaks are a thing, and this part of the plains creates many of them.”

Bran shook his head. “Unlikely. They wouldn’t head into other dungeons.”

“So there’s really a necromancer?” Nate raised an eyebrow, shifting uncomfortably.

Rayne almost answered with certainty, but honestly, it was still only his best guess. And if a necromancer really was filling dungeons with undead, then they needed to leave. Not argue.

The signs of habitation looked at least a month old, but there was no guarantee the necromancer wouldn’t return.

So Rayne folded the parchment and put it into his pocket before looking back toward the boss chamber. John was still unconscious back there, and they needed to get him to a healer.

“Did you give John a potion?” Rayne asked.

Heins nodded. “Yes. I also checked his wounds briefly. He probably has cracked bones and some internal bleeding, but the potion should be enough to keep him alive.”

“Good. Let’s pick him up, destroy the core, and get back to camp.” Rayne looked at Bran. “We’ll report everything to Axel and let him decide if a necromancer was involved. Our job was to conquer the dungeon, and we did.”

Everyone nodded. Nate, more than anyone else, looked relieved to be leaving. Rayne wished he felt the same, but a heavy feeling refused to leave his chest.

When he glanced back at the corpse of the undead lord, one thought surfaced again.

Was a similar monster waiting for him back on the third level?

He doubted he would ever know, but the thought alone was enough to make him want to return to the surface as quickly as possible.

***

They destroyed the dungeon core without ceremony.

Rayne drove his blade into it, shattering it in pieces while the chamber shook briefly before stabilising. After destroying the core, the dungeon only lasted for around a day or two before vanishing completely.

Before leaving, Bran and Nate grinded through parts of the dead treant and plucked out a few branches from its body. Apparently, they made great shafts for spears and alchemists paid a lot for them too.

Unfortunately, they weren't able to pick apart a lot of them since they needed to climb up through the rope to get out. And nothing else in the dungeon was worth plucking out according to Bran.

They left the same way they had entered, moving slower this time. Despite pouring more potion and water in his throat, John never woke up, though his breathing became even and he stopped groaning.

That was a good sign.

Nate and Kesh took turns carrying him, their shoulders sagging with exhaustion. But none of them complained.

Rayne guessed that they felt bad about not being able to contribute much to the battle against the undead lord, and he was happy to let them make up for it.

The dungeon tunnels felt quieter on their way back, and no moss creeper jumped down this time.

When they finally emerged into daylight, it was afternoon and when the camp walls finally came into view, the sun sat low in the sky, staining everything in gold and red.

Sentries stood watch as usual, torches flickered around the palisade.

Other squads were moving in as well—muddy, tired shapes filtering through the gates, some dragging carts, others carrying wounded on makeshift stretchers. The low murmur of voices rolled across the clearing, mixed with the clang of armor and the tired relief that came with surviving another dungeon run.

The competition among the squads had intensified in the last few days, and Rayne was sure that the captains were fighting for favour from Commander Evans, and trying to prove their worth.

As a result, he saw death practically everyday.

They slowly crested towards the gates, the familiar stench of shit and rot making Rayne scrunch his face.

But then his eyes caught someone familiar. Hobbs.

The giant stood just outside the gate, arms crossed over his chest, posture stiff in a way Rayne had learned to recognize. Not relaxed. Not standing casually.

He was waiting for someone.

When Hobbs’ eyes found them, they eased, and Rayne immediately understood he was waiting for them.

He immediately strided forward, his jaw tightening when he spotted John on Nate’s back.

“What happened?” Hobbs asked immediately, eyes flicking to John. “Is he alive?”

“Barely conscious since the dungeon,” Rayne replied. “Something unexpected happened, and he got caught in the way of a charging monster.”

Hobbs cursed under his breath. “Dungeons are always throwing fireballs at us. Get him to the healers. Now!”

Nate and Kesh didn’t need to be told twice. They veered off towards the gates. The medical tents stood just paces away from it. Heins following close behind after giving Hobbs a stiff salute.

Bran didn't leave right away, clearly recognising Hobbs was here for someone important.

“Want me to leave?” He asked.

Hobbs nodded. “Yes, I have something to talk to Rayne about. It's important.”

Bran nodded, gave Rayne a nod before walking through the gate.

He didn't look back and for a second, Rayne almost wished he had. He had never seen Hobbs so tense before, and hoped that he wasn't in trouble again.

“Can I know what's going on?” He asked finally.

Hobbs nodded, though his expression only sharpened. “Yes, walk with me. It's easier to explain on the way.”

“Is it about Fredrick or Shawn?”

“No,” Hobbs hissed. “Just walk. I will explain.”

That tone shut down all the words in his throat. Rayne fell in beside him, boots crunching over packed dirt as they moved deeper into camp. Around them, a few soldiers glanced at him, but that had become a norm since he had gained fame.

Part of it was also because he wore armour caked with black ichor.

They passed rows of tents and cookfires, and Rayne realised Hobbs was moving towards the end of the camp. His stride never relaxed, and after five minutes of silence, he opened his mouth.

“I'm sorry to bring you with me when you just came back from the dungeon, but Commander Evans requested your presence in his tent. Axel told me to bring you there right away, and I have been standing in front of the gates for three hours.”

Rayne's steps slowed a fraction. “What's going on?”

Hobbs looked back, then shrugged. “I have zero idea,” he said sincerely. “But if I take a guess, it's something to do with the expedition they finally sent to that bug dungeon we barely escaped from. A group of mages, veteran soldiers and two captains went inside that dungeon yesterday, and returned in the afternoon. I don't know what they reported, but Commander Evans immediately called up a meeting.”

Rayne felt a cold knot tighten in his gut, wondering what they had found. For a second, the face of the undead lord flashed in his mind, he shook his head.

There was no point of guesses when he would find out what happened soon.

“So, they want to interrogate me again,” he said in a murmur.

Hobbs nodded. “Probably. Captain Edran will be there, so you will be fine. At least I hope so.”

That didn't reassure Rayne.

Both of them kept walking, passing by more soldiers and reaching closer and closer to the camp. Only then did he realise that he stunk. For some reason, undead blood stuck to the armour like a glue and had a horrible stench to it.

He hoped the commander wouldn't be bothered by it as they finally reached the command tent. Two guards stood outside as usual, both giving Rayne a long look.

Hobbs moved forward to talk to one of them, and the man immediately went inside to inform everyone of their arrival.

As they waited, the deputy turned towards him. “You know I have been in the army for years now, and this is my second time in the Pascar plains.”

“I feel a “but” coming,” Rayne replied.

Hobbs grinned. “But I have never been in the command tent. And you are entering it thrice in two weeks.”

“I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.”

“It's always a good thing. The worst thing in the army is for your superiors to not even know you exist. Always show your face around. It's a bigger currency than gold.”

Rayne wanted to say that him showing his face around more would just get more people pissed in the army. But the guard returned just then, looking straight at Rayne.

“You can go in,” he said in a gruff manner.

He nodded, gave one last look at Hobbs who waved him in, then entered the tent. Just like the previous times, warmth gripped him inside the tent as he saluted.

The brazier near the center burned low but steady and the smell of hot iron, old leather, and brewed herbs filled the air—comforting, almost. For half a heartbeat, Rayne felt his shoulders loosen.

Then the eyes fell on him.

Cold. Assessing. Sharp.

The warmth vanished.

Commander Evans sat at the head of the long table. To either side sat captains Rayne recognized at once. Edran gave him a stiff nod while a few others he didn’t know watched silently, their gazes lingering on the blood drying across Rayne’s armor.

The tent felt tight with tension. Like a noose pulled just a little too close.

“Well,” Captain Clark said first, breaking the silence with a sharp sniff, “he looks like he crawled out of a grave. Bloody and stinking. Is this how your party leaders present themselves now, Edran?”

Captain Edran didn't flinch. “He was out in the dungeons.”

Rayne added immediately. “I didn't think stopping for a bath would be wise when the commander wanted my presence.”

Captain Verella and a few others snickered but Commander Evans raised his hand to shut all of them before his piercing gaze landed on Rayne.

He somehow kept his cool as the old man spoke. “I'm sure you have gotten some idea on why you are called here so suddenly. If you didn't, let me tell you. Yesterday, we sent a party back to the dungeon—both to clear it and confirm everything you said—but we ended up finding something that might change this whole expedition in the Pascar plains.”

Rayne stood still and asked. “What is that, sir?”

“An army of undead.”