Chapter 42
Abby appeared on the other side of my desk. “The Ice Temple is under attack, Master.”
I expected a sentence like that to spike my anxiety and to stoke a wave of rage, but instead, I only felt tired.
“Are they using the same strategy as they did with the Swamp and Water Temples?” I asked.
“Yes. The Temple’s wards have already failed, and the teleporter is no longer connected.”
Another swift demonstration of shock-and-awe warfare.
I could scramble to get myself and a few dozen followers to Flowst, but the enemy was likely gone already.
These weren't prolonged invasions. They were highly concentrated strikes that delivered enormous devastation in seconds, and the perpetrators were gone as quickly as they had come.
“We cleaned out the Ice Temple, correct?” I asked.
“Yes, Master. No life or valuables beyond the structure itself.”
+5 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 86 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
I rubbed my forehead.
We expected the Ice Temple to become a target eventually, so everyone and everything had been relocated to Sanctuary South. That old church held sentimental value to me, however. We created so many memories in that place, growing the Order of the Silk Noose from zero members to over 200.
The Temple might not have been as useful as it once was, but it belonged to me, and Abaddon destroyed it, shrinking my kingdom yet again.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I replied.
Abby bowed her head and disappeared.
I looked out the window of my room in Sanctuary South.
How long did I have until Abaddon came for my city?
The barrier that protected us from weather and from monsters was stronger than any of the wards used at our temples because Aurketzu's soulstone provided the power.
While I was certain it would fare better than temple wards, just how much better was difficult to say.
Would the barrier buy us an extra few hours? Days? I wasn't optimistic. In my mind, if Abaddon's forces reached Sanctuary South before I cleared the tower, the war was lost.
That last damn floor. I still had no idea what the tower wanted me to do.
I reviewed what I knew:
? The final floor was a sort of alternate reality seemingly fashioned from my memories.
? The tower manipulated my mind in such a way that I believed the experiences I was having were real.
? I saw my wives in the order they made their oaths, and a version of the old me had their interest and their attention.
? Entering an inn or a dungeon seemed to change the chapter, going from focusing on one wife to focusing on another.
? I didn't encounter any enemies, traps, or other obvious threats to my safety. Prior to this, advancing to the next part of the tower always meant defeating an enemy. This floor had no monsters, nor was any other objective or challenge immediately apparent.
? My wives appeared as statues in the teleporter room, standing in proud poses. Were those significant? I wasn't sure.
Everything I had built was being destroyed, and a stupid puzzle created by stuck-up celestials could be the obstacle of my undoing. Were they intending to impart a lesson of some kind? Did they want me to learn or experience something specific?
I didn't know, and my one attempt hadn't provided enough information. Lacking new thoughts or a plan of any substance, I went back to the tower.
The floor started the same way it did the first time: I “woke up” in the Northern Rangers bunkhouse, cursing the bitter cold. I repeated my cursing of the cold and went to the main guild hall to find warmth. My hand was on the door handle when I reclaimed my mind.
This wasn't real. The tower manufactured this.
“You slept in later than usual,” Mirko said, putting a finger in his book to hold his place. “There's some bacon and bread left if you want some.”
If I wanted new information, I had to conduct new tests. Repeating the same loop as before wouldn't help me.
“It's a shame I got you killed,” I replied to Mirko. “You were a solid worker and a good business manager. Did the Frozen Fiend make you suffer, or was it quick?”
The guild master stared back, dumbfounded. He cleared his throat. “Hit the dreamdust a bit hard last night?”
“Do you remember last night?”
“Maybe head back to your bunk. Give it a few more hours of rest and see how you feel.”
I leaned forward. “Seriously, do you remember last night? How about yesterday?”
“I've got my own work to do,” Mirko replied. “Hope you feel more like yourself.”
He turned away from me and went upstairs.
I spun to give Brenin the same treatment, but he was gone already. When I ventured outside, the snowstorm had stopped as well. I was halfway to the library when I saw Purity and Brenin leave ahead of me.
If a statue of Purity was in the teleporter room, I assumed the version of her on this floor was key to solving this puzzle, so I followed her and Brenin to a tavern.
Decades of spilled drinks left an ever-present stickiness on the wooden planks beneath my feet. The same chairs pushing in and out wore grooves into the floor, and the backs of those chairs bouncing off the wall left a battered ring around the dining room.
I remembered this place. I shared a drink with Godfried here.
Brenin and Purity sat at a table drinking cocoa. She giggled at something he said, but I didn't hear what.
I sat at the bar and ordered an ale. I listened to their conversation, but they didn't discuss anything interesting–the kobolds in the dungeon, life in Borja, life in Capital, each other's families, all banal bullshit.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!” I yelled upward at no one in particular.
The whole bar went quiet.
“Anyone have any ideas?”
The bartender leaned in. “Hey buddy, gotta keep it down.”
“Why?”
“Other people are here.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
A cold breeze cut through the tavern. When I looked up, Purity and Brenin were on their way out. I followed them, but when I stepped through expecting my feet to find snow, I instead found a guild hall floor.
The Flowst chapter of the Dungeon Brawlers? Nothing I did in Lopav felt like a victory. I had failed this run at floor 100 already, I suspected.
I followed Brenin and Solara to a magic item shop and then to a tea house before ending up in Borja again.
Then I tailed Brenin to his old basement apartment. Podni arrived about an hour later, her hood up to hide her face, and slipped inside when he cracked the door.
Invia and Brenin didn't go to a tavern or a tea house or an apartment. When they left the guard station, they snuck into an alley. Brenin was behind Invia, his arms around her waist, and a hand down the front of her pants.
I couldn't decide how I felt about Brenin being Invia's bitch. Granted, I hadn't seen very much of their relationship, but the glimpses I was given suggested a one-way dynamic. Invia got hers, and I highly doubted that Brenin ever got his.
Poor fake me.
Poor real me too. I came through the teleporter to the same statues of my wives with their chins high.
And I didn't learn a damn thing.
+6 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 92 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
Oh fuck off.
“How strange,” Solara said after listening to an account of my latest floor 100 run. “There's nothing like that in any of the dungeons. This is something completely new. Well, new to us, obviously. The tower is thousands of years old.”
She lounged on my bed with Purity and Invia next to her. Podni was on the couch with two followers massaging her bare legs.
“I'm open to ideas,” I said. “I'm at a loss.”
“We should see if one of us can come with you,” Podni suggested. “Maybe that would change something.”
“That's a good start.”
Purity absentmindedly stroked Solara's thigh while she thought. “The whole tower has felt like one big lesson, hasn't it? Sins, the people we killed, clones of our fathers, and then living flashbacks.”
“What's the lesson here?” Solara asked.
“I don't know. Maybe that's what we have to figure out.”
“We should try murdering all of the fake people,” Invia said. “Worked on every other floor.”
Podni laughed. “If only killing solved all of our problems.”
“Doesn't it?”
The saboteur groaned as the girls kneaded her thighs. “Okay, okay. That has fixed a lot of things for us. Invia's right.”
“Purity’s lesson theory is the best we have,” I said. “It would have to be marriage-related if it's putting statues of just my wives in the teleporter room.”
“Did you try fucking us?” Invia asked.
“Fake Brenin cock blocks me.”
“That must feel pretty strange,” Podni joked.
“Fake Invia is getting some at least,” Invia added, giggling.
I looked around the room at how relaxed everyone seemed. “How about we act like the King of the Abyss is trying to kill us? Or am I the only one who gives a shit?”
Podni jerked her head at the followers, telling them to leave. “Sorry, Master.”
Solara, Invia, and Purity cast their eyes downward.
“What is the marriage lesson?” I asked. “What should I do differently next time?”
No one said anything.
“Now that we aren't fucking off, you're out of things to say?” The silence continued. “Out. Everyone.”
My wives meekly slinked out of the room.
“Fuck!”
My life was slipping away from me. My sprawling empire was reduced to Sanctuary South and two dungeons.
My temples were gone. The other dungeons weren't safe for my followers or me.
My momentum with merchants across the planes sputtered as demons and people alike feared getting caught in my war with Abaddon.
“Master,” Abby said behind me.
“What?”
“This letter was left for you at Penny’s.”
“Thanks.”
“I should also inform you that 22 of the girls have renounced the Silk. I have already ensured they cannot return.”
“22?”
She nodded.
“Fantastic.” That brought me down to 214 followers. “Anything else?”
“No, Master.”
Abby disappeared as I broke the seal on the letter.
I am halting all business between the Dungeon Brawlers and any of your people or enterprises. This is not personal. I have to consider the livelihoods of all our members. Please do not attempt to contact me or anyone else in the Flowst chapter.
-Guild Master Trina
+1 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 93 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
That system update was by far the worst I had ever received. I didn't need the system to tell me that my world had just gotten even smaller, that my defeat was imminent.
I could close all the gates to Sanctuary South and spend every last DP on spawning soldiers. Finding me in the northern wastelands could take Abaddon a few months, perhaps. A few months of drugs, booze, and women before I made my last stand might be the best I could hope for.
If I carried a Podni bomb around with me, I had a chance at ending it all before Abaddon's minions captured me. Under no circumstances could I be taken alive. I had suffered enough for two lifetimes already and didn't want that to be my eternity.
Aurketzu would have loved to have seen this. If she were still in my mind, she would remind me of every moment where I disregarded her advice, where I took the unnecessary risks and made the wrong bets.
She did everything she could to prevent me from earning the sovereign class. None of my present problems would exist if I had understood my place and remained a dutiful viceroy.
I really fucking hoped Aurketzu never escaped her soulstone. Giving her the satisfaction of seeing my demise was one more failure I could not abide.
Fuck!
I grabbed my sword, a waterskin, and a few Healing potions.
My plan would work. Abaddon's Bane would win me this war. If I got to the celestial planes, everything else would fall into place.