Chapter 14: Castle Rathlock (Part 2)

Floors thirty-four and thirty-five had been a grueling, four-hour drain on their resource pools, but Floor thirty-six was proving to be an absolute nightmare.

“Evelyn, Prayer of Darkness, now!” GidSeres shouted over the din of battle.

Standing in the center of their defensive circle, the Nature Seer began chanting a sixth-level spell—a powerful area-of-effect debuff designed to strip the armor and strength stats from the S-ranked orcs and S-ranked raptors swarming their position. They were on Floor thirty-six, the highest anyone on the server had reached since Castle Rathlock first appeared six months ago.

They battled on a raised, earthen bridge spanning from one side of a massive, lava-filled chamber to the other. To get this far, they had fought through waves of flame elementals, elite vanguard units, and a Lava Golem mini-boss that had nearly cracked the bridge in half with its flaming boulders. Mana pools were dangerously near-empty, supplies ran critically low, and only a few hundred feet remained between them and the giant silver doors leading to the final Floor.

Brem launched arrow after arrow, resorting to standard ammunition after burning through his magical reserves. Though his basic, iron-tipped shafts barely chipped the orc’s heavy armor, his speed was relentless, launching four at a time to keep the front line staggered. Beside him, Wraist-lin fired low-level arcane missiles from his staff, hoarding his final handful of mid-tier spells for an emergency.

Slightly ahead of them, Irazu’s two giant dragon-bear summons held the line. The beast’s claws did little to slow the horde, but their massive health pools and damage-mitigation bonuses made them like living shields as they kept the group from being completely overrun.

GidSeres fought at the vanguard, his blades a blur of steel. Beside him, Duke dual-wielded fist weapons shaped like literal iron hands clenched into fists. As an orc flew at them, wildly swinging, Duke slammed his metal knuckles into its jaw.

“The fister strikes again!” he roared as the orc’s face was crushed beneath the enchanted metal.

A collective groan would have gone up from the group had they not been fighting for their lives.

Behind them, Evelyn finished her chant, throwing her arms wide. Waves of dark, decaying magic washed over the bridge like a heavy fog. The red eyes of the orcs dimmed, their postures slumping as their stats plummeted, and the raptors’ terrifying speed visibly tanked.

Seizing the moment, GidSeres shouted, “Rush formation!”

He and Duke waded straight into the enemy, toppling weakened orcs left and right. The rest of the party fell in line behind them, moving in pairs as they pressed for the doors.

But as they closed the distance, a fifteen-foot-tall pedestal materialized at the end of the bridge, a crimson crystal the size of a red wyrmling’s head pulsing at its apex. Instantly, a fresh wave of mobs spawned around it.

“We have to smash the crystal!” Irazu shouted over the roar of the mob. “It’s a localized spawner!”

GidSeres concurred, but his line of sight was blocked as a wall of orc shields rammed between their line, splitting the formation. The organized raid dissolved into chaotic survival as they were assaulted on all sides. Even Duke fell behind, swallowed by a sea of armor. Enraged orcs and Chaos Raptors scrambled over their own dead just to reach GidSeres.

“Buff me with what you’ve got!” he roared.

Irazu instantly cast a spirit blessing, granting him the passive movement speed of a cheetah. Evelyn followed up with a Cloak of Distortion, bestowing an automatic fifty-percent dodge modifier. Wraist-lin chipped in with a basic Jump enchantment, doubling his vertical leap. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had left.

GidSeres activated his personal cooldowns: Heaven’s Rage and Nimbleness of the Crater Cat. His vision tinted red as his strength and agility doubled.

He became a whirlwind of motion. The legendary God-Sword cut through heavy armor like paper, and his dagger found the weak points in every joint. Orcs roared as he hurled them off the bridge in droves, most of them dead before they hit the lava below.

Yet the resistance intensified. Carving a path through their ranks, GidSeres stood face-to-face with two elite, SS-ranked orcs. One brandished a massive two-handed greataxe; the other held a long polearm with curved blades on both sides. Behind them lay a clear, uninterrupted stretch of bridge leading to the pedestal.

Both elites howled, executing high-tier combat maneuvers. Even with his agility doubled, GidSeres could barely match their speed.

Falling back on the defensive, he parried the greataxe with both blades, then spun violently to avoid the polearm which nearly cleft him in half. The impact of their blows vibrated up his arms, depleting his stamina. He couldn’t keep this up for long.

“Shoot the gem!” Irazu screamed from somewhere in the rear.

Brem nocked an arrow, squeezing out the absolute dregs of his mana pool as he whispered a magic chant that suffused its tip with blue energy. He loosed the missile, sending it streaking over the heads of friends and foe alike.

A split second before impact, the arrow shattered into a thousand sparkling lights against an invisible barrier. A Golden Force Wall briefly flickered into view around the pedestal, then faded.

Everyone’s heart sank. Golden Force Walls were immune to ranged attacks and magic. They would have to shatter the gem up close.

A quick glance back by GidSeres confirmed the worst: his guild members were scattered across the bridge, fighting purely to stay alive. It was up to him to finish this.

Turning back to the elites, GidSeres initiated a reckless gambit. He stepped right into the guard of the axe-wielding orc, intentionally exposing his flank. The second elite took the bait, thrusting its polearm directly at his spine with blinding speed.

GidSeres ducked.

The curved blades missed his neck by centimeters, their sharp edges piercing deep into the abdomen of the front orc. The massive blow staggered the wounded orc, its health bar dipping as it let out a deafening roar of agony.

GidSeres didn’t stop moving. Spinning around the wounded giant, he slashed the razor edge of his dagger across its ankle to cripple its movement speed, then came up in a full-fledged sprint heading for the pedestal.

Both orcs immediately gave chase. It became a race for the crystal, with the enemy pounding the earthen bridge so close behind him he could almost feel their stinking breath on his neck. Just as one reached out to grab him, he leapt.

With Wraist-lin’s enchantment active, he launched high into the air. Mid-flight, he tapped his utility belt with his dagger, instantly sheathing it, then snapped his arm out at the last second to grasp the top of the pedestal. With his forward momentum swinging his body around the pillar, he drove the God-Sword straight into the crimson core.

The legendary blade bit deep into the heart of the gem, piercing the crimson core before it shattered into a thousand shards.

The air around the pedestal screamed, compressing into silence. Then a massive explosion rocked the air, sending a terrifying shockwave outward, flattening everyone in its path. GidSeres’ sword was torn from his grasp as the kinetic blast ripped him away, sending his body tumbling violently toward the bridge’s precipice.

Instinct took over as he whipped out his dagger from his belt and plunged it deep into the ground, anchoring his body in place.

After a few heart-pounding moments, the blast faded, and he slumped near the edge. Peering over the brink, a vast field of bubbling, hissing lava greeted him. He took a ragged breath, then let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Groaning, he stood and surveyed the battlefield. His companions were back where he’d left them, a few already pushing themselves onto their feet to help the others stand. Their enemies lay scattered across the bridge, unmoving; even the elite SS-ranked orcs lay face-first on the stone walkway. Shattering the crystal had done it.

“I—I think we cleared the Floor,” Evelyn panted, leaning heavily on the dark staff in her hands.

Brem rested flat on his back, staring blankly at the cavern ceiling. “House DeadEye has ne’er fought a battle as nerve-wracking as that.”

“He’s close,” Wraist-lin whispered, his eyes locked onto a swirling glass orb he held aloft. “I can feel my brother’s presence.”

“Oh, wow! The Festival of the Seven Seas Globe!” Evelyn’s eyes lit up in mock wonderment before narrowing into slits. She let out a weary sigh and brushed past the mage on her way toward GidSeres. “Put it away, Wraist. Everyone knows that’s a common cosmetic from the summer event. I have five of those things rotting in my personal vault.”

Wraist-lin glared at her. Duke walked over, placing his arm comfortingly around the mage’s shoulders. “I believe in your quest, man. Don’t let her get you down. It’s probably just her time of the month.”

“That is none of your business!” Evelyn shouted from down the bridge.

“Good job, everyone,” Irazu said, rallying the group as they gathered before the final threshold. “We actually did it.”

“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Duke agreed, turning a leering grin toward her. “Well, not you and me, obviously. But definitely you and GidSeres. Probably last night, and this morning right before we showed up at the hall.”

Irazu stared at him, completely unamused. “How have you not been banned from this game?”

Duke’s grin widened. “This is my seventh toon, if that answers your question.”

“Actually, that explains a lot.”

“We’ve still the final Floor,” GidSeres interrupted, redirecting their attention to the massive silver doors. “How’s everyone’s health?”

“Quarter left,” Brem reported.

“Half,” Duke said.

“The rest of us are under thirty percent,” Irazu said, checking the raid UI. “And only one of my dragon-bears survived.” She nodded to the side where the bloodied beast awaited her command. “It’s at sixty percent. Should we use our pots?”

“Wands,” GidSeres instructed. “The pots are easier to down during a fight.”

“Right.” Irazu nodded, pulling a stack of cheap healing wands from her Bag of Holding. She began cycling through the party, topping off their health bars with Minor Heal. It was a slow, tedious process, but it conserved their premium consumables.

“Should we attempt a short rest?” Brem asked, looking warily back down the bridge.

“My mind groweth weary e’en as my mana pool empties,” Wraist-lin mumbled, placing a hand dramatically over his brow as he leaned toward Evelyn.

She stepped aside, letting him stumble forward, then glared at him with arms crossed.

“Foul wench! Thou wouldst deny an exhausted wizard a shoulder to lean upon in this dire hour?!”

“Yeah, no,” she said, turning away to inspect the silver doors. “Do you think it’s trapped?”

GidSeres retrieved his dropped sword. A quick swipe of his hand confirmed its durability was still green. Slotting it back into his utility belt, he joined her at the threshold.

“It’s the final Floor,” he replied warily. “Bad time to have StealthBlade cancel on us.”

“We’ve made it this far without a dedicated rogue,” Brem noted.

“True, but that water trap on Floor twenty-six almost wiped us,” Duke countered. “If Irazu hadn’t pulled out that aquatic summon, we’d have drowned ten levels ago.”

GidSeres turned to Wraist-lin. “You’re completely out of Detect Traps spells?”

“If I could but rest and study my tome, my spell slots would be renewed,” the mage rasped, dramatically leaning his head back against Duke’s shoulder.

“Every time we’ve tried to rest in this castle, we’ve triggered a high-level ambush,” Irazu reminded them. “The choice is yours, Gid.”

The entire party turned to look at him, waiting on the guild leader’s call.

“We lose more resources defending against ambushes than we gain from resting,” GidSeres said, speaking his thoughts aloud. He looked back at the imposing silver barrier. “We keep moving. But let’s be smart about this. Irazu, summon a low-level beast and have it ram the doors.”

Irazu waved her hands, summoning a basic, black-and-white spotted cow in a puff of white smoke. “Run,” she told it, pointing directly at the silver gates.

With a ferocious, resonant “MOO!” the cow charged. It collided headfirst into the silver doors at a blistering speed of four miles per hour, immediately toppled onto its side, then continued mooing rhythmically at the ceiling.

“Okay, no spell traps on it,” GidSeres confirmed, nodding in satisfaction. “Dismiss the cow, please. It’s annoying.”

Irazu snapped her fingers, sending the animal back to the Ether Realm as its low-res character model pixilated and dissolved into white mist.

“I have the highest agility and reflex stats,” GidSeres murmured, stepping up to the doors. “I’ll test for physical traps. Stand back.”

As the team retreated to a safe distance, he grabbed the massive silver rings anchoring the doors and pulled. There was a loud, grinding creak as they grudgingly budged open. Straining against their heavy weight, he slowly forced them apart several feet, then instantly sprang back into a defensive stance.

A silence deeper than the earth greeted them.

The opening revealed a hall so vast it seemed to run into the distance for an eternity. A staggering forest of monolithic pillars, alternating between glossy ebony and polished ivory, spiraled upward, losing themselves in the gloom hundreds of feet above. A wide, crimson carpet, rich and untouched by neither man nor time itself, cut a path through the room for five hundred feet before reaching the edge of a seven-tiered platform at its end.

There, resting on an ivory pedestal, sat a small golden chest. It was atop the final platform that an obsidian throne rose—haughty and desolate—as it claimed the silence, crowning the chamber a court of long-forgotten kings.

“Floor thirty-seven,” Irazu murmured in awe, her emerald eyes reflecting the scope of the massive room. “We finally made it.”