“Master, I’ve completely recovered,” Sebekton said, his two eyes glinting, the one on the left now just as whole as the one on the right, as though it had never been injured in the first pce.

  “Good,” Viktor said, giving him a nod. “Are you ready for the fight?”

  Sebekton guffawed. “Of course. I can’t wait to show you the new power of my axe.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Viktor said as he studied the massive weapon in the towering Crocodilian’s grip. “Though, I have to say, in terms of appearance, it looked exactly the same as before.”

  [Master, actually, I can show you the full details of the Reliquary, as well as its ability.]

  Viktor furrowed his brow at the sudden interruption from the Dungeon Core. “You can do that?” he scoffed. Then why wait until now? Why didn’t you just show me right after you transferred the power to it? Well, whatever. He waved his hands. “Show me.”

  Soul of a Deserter

  Soul of a once-renowned warrior with incredible strength. It’s said that the axe he swung cut through his enemies like a hot knife cutting through butter. One day, the warrior grew weary of the life of constant killing, so he faked his death and fled to a secluded vilge at the edge of the world. He lived a peaceful life with his family for several years, but eventually, his former comrades found him. Realizing he couldn’t run away from his past, the man chose to sacrifice himself to protect his family.

  Rank: D

  Ability: True SshThe user can swing the Reliquary to unleash an invisible crescent that cuts through the air. The power and range of the attack are proportional to the user’s strength.

  So the Dungeon Core does have a ranking system for Reliquaries, Viktor thought. And what the heck is that backstory? Was that the former life of the soul now crystallized within Sebekton’s axe? Not that he cared anyway. What mattered was the weapon’s ability. Its power scaled with the owner’s physical strength, which meant, in Sebekton’s hands, the axe was far more powerful than when it was wielded by its previous owner.

  “Let’s go then,” Viktor said. “The Acolytes are waiting.”

  Sebekton nodded and followed him toward the door that led to the water realm.

  “By the way, what do you think about those guys?” Viktor asked as they were about to cross the threshold. When the merfolk arrived, Sebekton had spent a good amount of time with them, learning about their origins, their stories. He had also quickly befriended the two Cyclopes who were assigned to the third floor. So Viktor was curious whether the same thing had happened with the Acolytes of the Deep.

  “Well, they are... secretive,” the Guardian replied with a shrug. “I’ve attempted to strike up a conversation a couple of times, but they tend to avoid my questions. I also heard from the merfolk that they worship some kind of dark god. Honestly, I don’t trust them at all. I know they’re bound to the dungeon, so they can’t betray us, but still, I’d keep a close watch on them if I were you, Master.”

  Viktor had heard something simir from Fianna during their st conversation, but he had dismissed it at the time. As long as the Acolytes were useful to him, he didn’t really care about their faith or their deity. However, if Sebekton now warned him about the same thing, perhaps he should pay more attention to this issue.

  “Keep gathering information on them for me,” he told the Guardian. “If you can’t find anything, I’ll take matters into my own hands. But for now, there are more pressing concerns I need to focus on.”

  “Is it about the trouble in town, Master?” Sebekton asked. He must have heard about the situation from Celeste.

  Viktor nodded.

  “How is it going?”

  “In three days, the town will hold a vote. Every adult citizen of the town will cast their ballot, and the outcome will determine whether the dungeon will be sold to Clovis.”

  That was the Mayor’s final decision. Or rather, his indecision. That weak-willed old man was too spineless to make the hard call himself, so he decided to hide behind what he called “the will of the people.” Unsurprisingly, Rennald was keen on the idea. After all, anything decided by the vote of the poor was bound to be a victory for the rich man who held the power to influence it.

  “Is the situation... bad?”

  “It is.”

  “But Celeste told me you’d do something about it.”

  “I’ll try, but there is no guarantee it’ll work.” Viktor shrugged. “In the worst-case scenario, I would have to rely on you to defend my dungeon.”

  Sebekton let out a booming ugh as he pounded his chest. “You can count on me, Master.”

  Upon entering the water realm, they found a man—or rather, a creature—standing at the shoreline. It had a face that was barely human, a pallid mess of slimy skin stretching thin, eyes completely bck, devoid of any sclera. A soaked robe clung to its form, and long, tangled tentacles sprouted from its back, writhing like snakes.

  “Master, I’m waiting for you,” came a voice that was both smooth and unsettling.

  Viktor gave a nod to the Acolyte of the Deep. “You know what you have to do, right?”

  “Yes, Master. I’m going to cast a spell on Lord Sebekton that will allow him to walk on water as if it were solid ground.”

  Viktor asked his Guardian, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Do it then,” Viktor said, turning back to the creature.

  The Acolyte raised its webbed hand toward Sebekton and began to chant. The Crocodilian stood still, his body rexed but his eyes locked on the creature, watching its every movement.

  The sounds it uttered slithered and coiled through the air. Thick, wet sylbles dragged themselves slowly from the bottom of the creature’s throat. It was rough, but it carried the shape of a melody, twisted and haunting. It sang in a nguage no man could understand. No sane man, at least. Every note felt like it was tapping against a door that should never be opened. Because beyond that door, something stirred. Something very old, something slumbering, something best left alone.

  When the final words of the chant left the Acolyte’s lips, the creature lowered its arms, its eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “It’s done, Master.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sebekton stepped forward into the water. The surface beneath him rippled as his cwed legs made contact, but it held. At first, the Guardian moved slowly, testing each step, his slit-pupiled eyes cautiously scanning the surroundings. But once he realized that the water didn’t give way to his massive body’s weight, his stride lengthened and grew faster. Before long, he was sprinting, his powerful legs propelling him across the water’s surface.

  What a great spell, Viktor thought, if only it doesn’t come with that creepy song. And this ability was something only the Acolytes of the Deep were capable of. Their control over water was truly far superior to that of the mermaids. He chuckled. Doesn’t that mean they have a better god?

  With Sebekton now in the open water, the battle had officially begun. A massive tentacle erupted from the depths, its skin slick and glistening, covered in rows of suckers gaping like hungry mouths. Without hesitation, the Guardian swung his axe. The invisible crescent split the air with a hiss, cleaving the tentacle in two. The severed limb spped the water with a spsh, but immediately, two more surged in its pce, ready to thrash at the Crocodilian.

  One of the most effective strategies for the adventurers to deal with the water realm was to employ an aeromancer to lift the entire party into the air, bypassing all the challenges below. So naturally, Viktor needed a solution for these flying intruders. Ranged attacks were the most obvious answer, but neither the mermen’s harpoons nor the froglings’ poisonous sludge could be shot high enough. Fortunately, the test additions to his forces, the Acolytes of the Deep, had brought something new to the table. Each of them could individually summon a massive tentacle, and when they combined their power, they could bring forth a colossal one that could reach the sky, capable of knocking down those pesky wind mages. And the best part was, these creatures could hide at the bottom of the water while attacking the adventurers, out of sight and out of reach, denying the enemies any opportunity for a counterattack.

  The main purpose of this spar was to see how the summoned tentacles fared against someone who could cut them down. Viktor didn’t have any flying minions at his disposal for the test, but a water-walking Sebekton should be good enough.

  Another tentacle. Another swing. The Crocodilian cut down the monstrous limbs as soon as they emerged. But more and more appeared, and they drew closer and closer to his position. Four tentacles, then five, six, coiling into a cage. Sebekton ducked a swipe, pnted his cwed feet, and spun. His axe sang, shearing through the mass of the rubbery flesh. Splintered stumps fell, bck blood spraying everywhere.

  One tentacle shot up from below, directly toward his face, too close for him to strike with his weapon. He caught it between his teeth. He twisted his neck, snapping the tentacle in half. He spat the mangled remains out, then resumed his stance, ready for the next onsught.

  The water trembled, but no new tentacles surged up. There was only an ominous rumble vibrating through the waves, heralding the approach of something dark and terrible. The surface bulged, then ruptured. From the depths below, it emerged.

  There it was, the colossal tentacle that reached the sky.

  It shot upward with tremendous force, an enormous writhing mass of flesh and muscle. It tore through the water with terrifying speed, a bck, serpentine pilr seeming to stab at the very heavens. Sebekton’s eyes widened in shock at the monstrosity whose shadow swallowed him whole. Then, he grinned.

  Gripping his massive axe, the Guardian twisted his body, muscles rippling beneath his scaly skin, and swung the weapon behind him. He braced himself for the incoming attack.

  Wind screamed as the tentacle shot down from above. Letting out a ferocious roar, Sebekton’s tail snapped behind him, propelling his massive body into a spinning motion. The Reliquary followed in a powerful, sweeping arc, unleashing the invisible crescent at the descending colossal limb.

  The gargantuan tentacle recoiled upon contact. Sebekton’s strike had carved a deep, gaping wound into its surface, bck blood gushing out from the gash like a geyser. A sickening screech filled the air as the tentacle jerked and twitched violently.

  Turning away from the writhing limb, he dropped to all fours and submerged his head under the surface. What’s he doing? Viktor thought. The tentacle hadn’t been cut down yet, so why was he exposing his back to it? Then he saw his Guardian surge upright, ughing murderously.

  “Found you!”

  Sebekton leaped into the air, his weapon raised high.

  The axe struck true, with all of the Crocodilian’s might behind it. Not at the thrashing titan above, but at the waves beneath.

  For a split second, the water was cleaved in two, creating a trench that reached all the way to the bottom.