They had vastly different ideas about how to manage the creepy paintings. Owin opened his index immediately while Shade just danced about, seeing how accurately the eyes followed him.

They followed him very closely.

Fortress Mob

Haunted Painting

Level 15

The bigger they were, the higher level they were. The biggest painting was level 60, while the smallest was level 5.

Owin didn't know what to think of that. Their eyes moved, and that was it. No floating, no walking, no spells. Nothing seemed particularly dangerous.

The biggest painting was of a naked man with a disgustingly wide mouth holding a goat carcass up with a single hand. Something was wrong with proportions because the man looked bigger than Chorsay, which Owin decided was probably accurate because the painting was at least ten feet tall.

Shade walked cautiously across the room, past the stairs to the lobby, and successfully reached the door on the far side. He opened it, flinched, and looked around, seeing all the eyes watching him. "I think we just leave."

Owin crept across the room. As soon as he started moving, all eyes snapped to him. "I hate this."

"Oh, me too. The paintings have eyes and I still don't."

"Right." Owin reached Shade and smiled dumbly. "That's what I also hate."

"If I had eyes to roll, I'd be rolling them with a lot of attitude." Shade set off into the hall, then abruptly stopped.

Owin bumped into the back of the skeleton's legs before leaning to the side.

A bairn stopped mid step and watched them with the same uncertainty that they had watching it.

Shade slowly held up the wooden stake.

The bairn shook its head.

Shade nodded.

The little bat-like vampire shook its head again and pointed to the door in front of it. Before Shade could charge it, the bairn turned around and hurried away down a different hall.

"Well, we might as well see what the little creature was trying to show us." Shade walked up and knocked.

"Come in," a voice said.

Shade shrugged and opened the door. "I hope you were expecting a sexy surprise because I have good news for you."

A blast of bubbling red magic smashed into Shade, throwing him around the corner the bairn had just disappeared behind.

"Another vampire?" Owin asked.

Shade sat up with blood dripping from his ribcage. "Apparently. And he wasn't excited to see me."

Owin stayed close to the wall and inched to the door. He peeked inside what was apparently a bedroom and saw a few curious things. First, there was a whorling portal in an arched frame beside the bed. Second, there was a shirtless muscular man reclined on the top of the bed covers. Even after staring for a moment, Owin failed to spot any signs he was a vampire. His skin was dark and scarred, showing no signs of vampirism that the others had. His hands rested on his bald head as he looked at Owin.

"Are you a vampire?" Owin asked.

"Yes." He pulled his upper lip back, revealing fangs.

"You don't look like a vampire."

"I don't look like an elite vampire." He sat up. "Why is there a goblin here?"

Shade pressed himself against the wall on the other side of the door and peeked inside.

"And a skeleton?"

"He's my familiar." Owin stepped into the middle of the doorway. "Are you going to eat me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

The man shrugged.

Owin took a step into the bedroom. On his right, the exit void nexus was a dark spot on the wall. That meant the nearby portal acted as the stairs to the eighth floor. Owin fought the urge to open his index. It had been enough to infuriate other vampires. There was no reason this man, no matter how calm he was now, would act any different.

"What's your name?" Owin asked.

"Rainier Lamar." He grabbed a loose white shirt from the bedpost nearby and put it on. "And you?"

"Owin. This is Shade."

Shade nodded.

"A curious duo." Rainier yawned. "I had thought the skeleton escaped from the crypts."

"I've escaped from a lot of things," Shade said.

Rainier raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you different from the others?" Owin asked. The bedroom was covered in fabrics and art. It was a lot to look at. Somebody had done far too much.

"Oh, I'm just not as hungry." He chuckled softly despite his answer not getting any positive responses from Owin or Shade. It really didn't sound like a joke.

Owin looked up at Shade, who had already raised his stake.

Rainier sighed. "I see my humor has grown as dead as my heart."

"There was humor?" Shade asked.

Rainier lifted a hand. Owin immediately noticed he had short nails. "Use your magic. Take a look. That should help answer a question or two."

Fortress Mob

Rainier Lamar

Vampire

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Level 60

"Just vampire?" Owin asked.

"Indeed. Some of us keep our human appearances, you know. Really, it is just a difference from a vampire to a lesser or greater. I take it you met Arintak?"

"We, uh, we definitely met him," Shade said.

"He's dead? Thank Elysium. I couldn't survive another minute around him." Rainier waved them over. "Close the door."

Shade closed the door behind them as Owin took a few more steps into the room. There were paintings on the wall near the door that he had missed before. Their eyes tracked him just like the others had.

Rainier blurred as he moved, which caused Owin to lift the hammer. Instead of dashing at them, Rainier went to the wall, grabbed each painting, and threw them one after the next into the open portal.

"She's listening. Maybe even now." He dropped to a knee, down to Owin's eye level. "They'll kill all three of us."

"Who?"

"Redella will be here any second," Rainier said, looking past Owin to the door.

"We killed Redella," Owin said confidently.

Rainier grabbed Owin's shoulders. Shade flinched, but Owin just stared into the vampire's brown eyes.

"Then save me. Please. I've been trapped here for so long. If you kill her . . . If you can."

"Who?"

"Lucie Masson. The immortal Vampire Lord."

***

Sylmare was curious how difficult this fight would really be. She had heard the first boss was generally more difficult than the second, then anything beyond that was exceedingly more dangerous. The way shards multiplied power put the heroes at a disadvantage quickly.

She had been ready to get her first shard for nearly a decade. Veph had just kept her too busy. She was too 'invaluable,' if Veph was to be believed. And it was probably true. After running a majority of Void Nexus for the last few years while also keeping other spy activities at bay, Sylmare had time for nothing but work.

Apparently, most adults had hobbies.

She couldn't imagine such a thing. How did they find the time?

The oaf of a boss was on the other side. Eldtannatar had just vanished, which meant the fight would start as soon as one of them moved.

Instead of her own fight, Sylmare found herself wondering about the others. Potilia would easily beat the boss. The girl was a genius on top of being the most ruthless opponent. If she actually felt pain, she never showed it. She was always busy laughing and tripping over herself like she wasn't actually a monster.

A heavily armored enemy was normally a disadvantage for an umbra. Cixilo would probably find a way. The others all had their own tricks to manage something with armor. Po probably just pummeled it to death, which was about the same plan as Sylmare had.

There were a lot of routes within the umbra class, and even someone who stayed more traditional still had plenty of options. Sylmare had to frequently fight a berserker and a soldier, so her focus ended up on weapon modification and movement. Hiding from a soldier was nearly impossible. Caspius made sure she remembered that. And even if she went invisible against Po, the insane woman would destroy the entire area or create all of her damn portals.

An umbra who stood head to head against an opponent was rare, but it wasn't impossible. It just required some quick thinking, a lot of mana, and a weapon one could use with great efficiency.

And, of course, knowledge ahead of time was beneficial. With a walking, bumbling encyclopedia as a member of their party, Sylmare had plenty of time to learn anything and everything she needed to know.

Stopping at the Forge of Divine Light also gave her plenty of time to procure a new weapon. Ernie had worn himself out making Siora's blade, which was disappointing, and Katalin apparently only made bombs, so if she made a new weapon, it would likely explode. That left the claverstan smiths, which was fine. Sylmare had plenty of money after so many years with Void Nexus.

Sylmare ran her hand over the newly constructed mace. Wax/Wane was a spell that had a lot of potential drawbacks. Using it on a knife, for example, could make the blade incredibly sharp while turning the metal brittle with how light and weak it became. It was a spell of balance, and one that could only be used in the right circumstance.

Her palm pulsed with moonlight as she cast Wax/Wane, causing the mace to become heavier and sturdier, while making it become less round. She immediately followed it up with Hone, covering the mace's head in purple fire. Hone provided additional damage that was delayed. When used well, it was like hitting an opponent twice with a single strike.

Dusk Enhance was next, though she lost some of the benefit from not focussing on a stealth approach. With all three buffs stacked on the mace, she cast Clone Blade, which was an odd name considering the mace was the farthest thing from a sword or knife.

An exact copy of the mace formed in her left hand. They were heavy and the drain on her mana was quick. She had to be quicker.

The boss hadn't moved, but had activated some ability. Metal spider-like creatures crawled out of the lava all around the arena. While standing still, its gear had been shifting and glowing. Now, as soon as Sylmare moved, the boss began firing small, concentrated bursts of its claverstan magic launcher.

She casted Dash as she charged, moving like a blur, dancing around the blasts. The small mobs didn't even matter. They were like spectators as she made it across the arena. As soon as she reached the boss, she dropped low, just underneath the halberd. As soon as the polearm passed over, she pounced, swinging the twin maces directly at the front of the armored boss.

Her blow staggered it heavily. Armor folded under her strike. She landed on her toes with the elegance of a dancer. A pirouette gave her the speed and power for a follow up strike. Sylmare danced around the boss, evading every attack like she could see it, and retaliated with a lethal flurry.

Sylmare stumbled back, dropping the mace. All the buffs disappeared. The clone vanished in a flutter of magic. She took a deep breath and wiped sweat from her face.

Eldtannatar waved away the summoned spiders who were far too slow to ever land a hit on Sylmare. She had been prepared to handle them next. Even while winded, she knew they would be manageable.

Eldtannatar walked over slowly. Sylmare had already stared at them enough, seeing all the weird features. The stone-like ridged brow, the thick strands of hair, and all the other odd things that didn't match any other creature she had ever seen. The god held up a shard. "Your skill is undeniable. I will follow your career with interest."

Sylmare bowed her head as she accepted the shard. "Thank you, Eldtannatar."

The god snapped, opening a portal at their side. "You are the last of your party."

Sylmare bowed her head again and walked through the portal. She emerged just outside the Subterranean entrance. The others were sitting around a fire in a little camping area they absolutely had not made. It looked old and probably acted as a gathering spot for heroes leaving the dungeon for hundreds of years.

"Syl!" Po yelled. She stood to run over, but tripped over the log Ernie sat on and fell face first into the snow.

"You made it." Sylmare helped her up and gave her a hug. "It went okay?"

"It could've gone better. Rift Aura wasn't really helpful against the armor." Potilia smiled. "We're just having some celebratory drinks."

"Why don't we do that back in town?"

Potilia took a sip of the flask. Her cheeks were flushed, meaning she had probably already been at it for a while. "We will once Lera's back."

Sylmare's expression hardened. "Po."

Siora looked over, already understanding. She was the only one who seemed to be ahead of it all, but that made sense. Siora had a much different experience in the dungeon than anyone else in the party.

"Eldtannatar said I was the last of the party," Sylmare said.

"But . . . Lera?" Potilia looked back at Cixilo, who was now on her feet.

"You're sure?" Cix asked.

Sylmare nodded. "I'm sorry."

Potilia's brow furrowed. "What are you saying? Lera's strong."

Cixilo grabbed Potilia's hand from behind. "It's okay, Po. She can be with Ilarion now."

"But . . . but—" Potilia turned to Cixilo and buried her face in the umbra's shoulder.

Katalin and Ernie just nodded thoughtfully to Sylmare. Siora's expression was unreadable, but that wasn't all that surprising considering the scars across her face.

"We can drink for another reason then," Siora said. She grabbed a bottle from the snow beside her and poured it into a handful of copper cups.

Sylmare had no idea where the drinks or cups came from, but she suspected it had to be from an alchemist in those bags of theirs.

Cixilo guided Potilia back to a log. Once everyone was sitting, Siora passed out the cups and raised one high.

"To Lera, a true hero," Siora said, sounding more sincere than Sylmare would've ever expected from the stoic soldier.

"To Lera."

They all took a drink of the ice-cold liquor.

Potilia wiped some tears from her eyes. "She'd be happy to know we miss her."

"She knows. Every Nimble Hog will celebrate her life," Cixilo said.

Katalin nodded. "We can have Chorsay tell some stories back in Vraxridge."

Potilia smiled and sniffled. "He does like to tell stories." She finished off her drink. "Okay. Let's get back. No reason to wait in the cold."

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