Bab 13: chapter 13: Battles lost
The soft crunch of leaves echoed beneath their boots as Lucien and Valeri walked through the dense expanse of the Forest of Decay. Twilight approached, casting long shadows over the warped and ancient trees, their twisted forms resembling tortured figures frozen in time.
"So," Valeri said, breaking the uneasy silence. "This 'Forbidden Tavern'... It just pops up out of nowhere? Seems a bit convenient, doesn't it?"
Lucien glanced at him, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Convenient for those who don't mind dying, maybe."
Valeri frowned. "And for those of us who do mind dying?"
"Then you don't go in." Lucien's tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
The Forest of Decay was infamous for its labyrinthine paths and the unnatural monsters that roamed within it. But even among the horrors it held, the Forbidden Tavern was in a league of its own. It wasn't just a dungeon—it was a myth, whispered about in hushed tones by adventurers who claimed to have seen its flickering lights on the horizon.
Lucien had other reasons for choosing this dungeon. It wasn't just the promise of treasure that drew him. The Tavern was said to house remnants of the old world—artifacts tied to the origins of their powers. For someone like Lucien, whose life seemed tangled in mystery, it was a lead he couldn't ignore.
"Hey, don't ignore me!" Valeri snapped, breaking into Lucien's thoughts.
Lucien gave him a side glance, his smirk deepening. "Don't worry. I'm sure your Aikido finesse will save you."
Valeri's groan echoed through the forest.
---
The New Party
As the last rays of sunlight painted the forest in hues of gold and orange, they reached a clearing. There, a group of adventurers stood gathered, their voices carrying over the rustling trees.
Lucien's sharp eyes scanned the group, noting their sheer number. Over forty-five adventurers stood in clusters, their gear gleaming faintly in the fading light. Most bore a mix of nervous anticipation and steely determination.
Among them, several figures stood out.
The first was a tall, broad-shouldered man whose spear rested casually against his shoulder. His confident stance and piercing gaze gave him the air of a leader. This was Hector, the spear warrior.
Next stood Logan, his armor gleaming even in the dim light. He seemed to stand a little straighter than the others, his expression stern and proud, like a knight from a fairy tale.
To the side leaned Armand, a wiry figure with a quiver slung over his back. His movements were languid, almost lazy, but his eyes betrayed a sharpness that spoke of careful observation.
Finally, near the edge of the group, a petite woman sat on a fallen log, her hands idly tracing patterns in the dirt. Gale. Her serene demeanor contrasted with the tension in the air, making her seem as though she were untouched by the chaos around her.
"Looks like we're not the only ones here," Valeri muttered.
"No kidding," Lucien replied, his tone dry. "And they brought their own circus."
---
Recognitions and Tensions
The moment Lucien and Valeri approached, Hector's eyes snapped to them. His grip on his spear tightened, his jaw clenching.
"Who are you?" Hector's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing at Lucien.
Lucien offered a lazy wave. "Just a couple of adventurers looking to die spectacularly in a dungeon. You?"
Hector bristled at the flippant tone. "This isn't a place for amateurs."
"Good thing we're not amateurs," Lucien replied smoothly.
Valeri leaned over and whispered, "Do you always make people want to kill you?"
"Only the interesting ones," Lucien said, his smirk growing.
Further behind, Armand's sharp eyes were already fixed on Lucien, his casual demeanor faltering for a fraction of a second. He recognized Lucien immediately—it was impossible not to. He'd spent years trying to forget the man he had betrayed, and yet here he was, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate.
Forcing his features into an indifferent mask, Armand let out a low whistle. "You've got a lot of nerve, walking up to a group like ours and acting like you own the place."
Lucien's gaze flicked to him, his smirk freezing for the briefest moment before he recovered. There it was—the face of the man who had shattered his trust and his guild in their previous life. Armand's betrayal had been a knife in the dark, cutting deeper than any blade could. But Lucien's expression betrayed nothing.
"Haven't seen you around before," Lucien said casually, tilting his head as if Armand were a stranger.
Lucien's gaze lingered on Armand for a fraction longer than it should have. Armand was supposed to be dead. The memory of his sacrifice—a mangled body, heavy and lifeless in Lucien's arms—flashed unbidden in his mind. The betrayal he once endured at Armand's hands was eclipsed by the man's final act: throwing himself into death's jaws to save Lucien. Yet here he was, alive, standing before him as if nothing had happened.
Lucien's cocky smirk remained fixed, masking the storm brewing inside. He wouldn't acknowledge Armand yet—not here, not now. Questions filled his mind like a flood: How was he alive? Did he know? For now, Lucien resolved to act like this was their first meeting. The stakes were too high, and answers would come in time.
Armand, for his part, seemed content to feign ignorance. His expression was calm, almost measured, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that suggested he knew more than he let on.
"New in town," Armand replied, his tone light.
The two exchanged looks, the tension between them invisible to everyone else but palpable to them.
The group of 45 adventurers stood in a loose formation, awaiting Hector's instructions. The dense forest around them buzzed with life, though the air felt heavy with an unspoken tension.
"Listen up!" Hector barked, his spear planted firmly in the ground. His commanding presence drew all eyes to him. "This is no ordinary dungeon. This place doesn't care how strong you think you are or what title you hold. If you're careless, you die. So, we'll be splitting into groups of five to maximize efficiency and survival. Team leaders, step forward."
Lucien's hand shot up before Hector could even finish. "I'll take a group."
Hector's eyes narrowed, his dislike for Lucien palpable. "You?" he sneered. "What makes you think you're qualified to lead?"
Lucien smirked, the air around him subtly shifting. Without a word, he extended a hand toward one of the towering trees nearby—trees known for their resistance to fire. A spark ignited in his palm, quickly swelling into a controlled inferno. The flames danced around his fingers before launching toward the tree, engulfing it in a bright, crackling blaze.
The group gasped as the flames consumed the supposedly inflammable wood, only to vanish moments later, leaving the tree untouched but visibly scorched. Lucien's control over his flames was immaculate, a display of both power and precision.
"That good enough for you?" Lucien asked lazily, his smirk widening as he locked eyes with Hector.
Hector's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. Pick your team."
Before Hector could retort, Logan stepped forward, his expression stern. "We don't have time for bickering. The sun is setting, and the Tavern won't wait."
Lucien scanned the crowd, his mind working quickly. His cocky demeanor belied the careful consideration behind his choices.
Logan: The young knight's aura was off—chaotic, almost cursed. Lucien didn't know what it was yet, but keeping Logan close felt prudent.
Gale: Her presence was unique. Her aura felt alive, almost sentient, unlike anything he'd encountered before. She seemed oblivious to her own potential, and Hector hadn't singled her out, which meant he likely hadn't noticed it either.
Armand: Lucien's smirk faltered for a split second as his eyes met Armand's. He needed answers, and having Armand in his group would allow him to observe the man closely. Why was he alive? What did this mean?
"Logan, Gale, Armand," Lucien called out, pointing to each of them. "You're with me."
Hector scoffed, clearly relishing the idea of Lucien struggling to lead this mismatched group. "Good luck with that," he muttered under his breath.
Armand stepped forward with a neutral expression, though there was a flicker of something deeper—shame, perhaps? Logan looked excited, eager to prove himself, while Gale merely nodded, her calm demeanor unshaken.
Lucien tilted his head, studying Logan. "You've got the whole 'noble knight' thing down, don't you?"
Logan's eyes narrowed. "And you've got the 'arrogant rogue' act perfected."
"Years of practice," Lucien said with a mock bow.
Further back, Gale stood, brushing dirt from her hands. "If you're done measuring egos," she said, her tone calm but firm, "we have a dungeon to prepare for."
Her voice carried a quiet authority, and even Hector seemed to hesitate. She turned to Lucien and Valeri, her gaze steady. "You're either with us or against us. Make up your minds."
Lucien studied her for a moment before nodding. "We're with you. For now.
As the last sliver of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the air grew still. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of rustling leaves and distant creatures falling silent.
Then, it appeared.
Flickering lights danced in the distance, forming the shape of a decrepit tavern. Its wooden walls were warped and cracked, as though they had been standing for centuries. The faint sound of laughter and clinking glasses carried on the wind, though there was no one in sight.
"The Forbidden Tavern," Hector said, his voice low.
"Charming," Lucien muttered.
The group approached the so-called Forbidden Tavern as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in hues of gold and shadow. Despite its name, the "tavern" was anything but inviting.
The structure resembled a castle, its walls buried beneath layers of moss and decay. Its infamous wooden doors, etched with demonic skulls and intricate runes, loomed ominously before them. The air grew colder as they neared, an unnatural chill that raised the hairs on the back of Lucien's neck.
"Stay alert," Hector ordered, his voice sharp.
The group approached cautiously, their weapons drawn. The closer they got, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air felt thick, charged with an energy that made the hair on their arms stand on end.
Gale placed a hand on the tavern door, her expression unreadable. "Whatever's inside," she said softly, "don't let it break you."
Logan snorted. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
Lucien smirked. "She's right, you know. Places like this aren't just about strength. They're about willpower. And you..." He glanced at Logan. "...look like you've got the spine of a soggy biscuit."
Logan's hand tightened on his sword. "Keep talking, and we'll see whose spine breaks first."
"Enough," Hector snapped. "We're wasting time."
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The air was stale, and the scent of old wood and something metallic lingered. The area was filled with eerie feeling.
"Stick together," Hector ordered, his spear at the ready.
As they moved further in, the door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing through the room.
"Well, that's not ominous," Valeri muttered.
Lucien's eyes scanned the room, his senses on high alert. He could feel the weight of the place pressing down on him, as though the very walls were watching.
Then, a low growl sounded from the shadows.
The growl grew louder, and from the darkness, shapes began to emerge. Creatures twisted and malformed, their eyes glowing with malevolent light.
"Everyone, get ready!" Hector shouted.
Before he could voice his thoughts, however, three of the nine groups surged forward, their leaders eager to claim glory. The rest of the adventurers watched as the doors creaked open, revealing a dark, yawning void beyond.
"Idiots," Lucien muttered under his breath.
The growls ceased abruptly, replaced by an ominous silence. Then, without warning, the ground beneath the advancing groups gave way, revealing a bottomless pit. Their screams echoed briefly before fading into nothingness.
The remaining adventurers froze, horror etched on their faces as they realized the danger they had narrowly avoided.
Lucien glanced at Hector, whose expression was grim but composed. "This is why I said to stay alert," Hector growled.
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