CHAPTER 12 — “Echoes Below” #4
“Enough for you to do whatever you’re planning to do.” He looks at me sidelong. “Which I’m still not entirely clear on, by the way.”
“I’m going to kill an emperor.” The words come out matter-of-fact, like I’m discussing the weather. “And his wife. And his inner circle. And anyone else who was involved in what they did to me.”
Garrett is quiet for a long moment.
“That’s ambitious.”
“I’m an ambitious person.”
“You’re a Level 15 mage going up against the most powerful people on the continent.”
“For now. I won’t be Level 15 forever.”
“No.” He puffs on his pipe, contemplative. “No, I don’t suppose you will.” A pause. “The girl. Mariella. She’s one of them, isn’t she? Related to the people you’re hunting.”
I tense. “How did you—”
“I’m old, son. Not blind.” He waves off my concern. “I don’t care about her bloodline. I care about her actions. And her actions have been nothing but helpful since she arrived. Whatever she’s running from, she’s running toward something better. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re surprisingly philosophical for a retired S-rank.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think. Not much else to do out here.” He knocks out his pipe, grinding the embers under his heel. “The dungeon’s calling you. I can see it in your eyes. When are you going back?”
“Tomorrow, probably. My mana’s finally recovered. The village preparations are as done as they’re going to get.” I look toward the dungeon entrance, barely visible in the fading light. “Floor 6. The first of the modified levels.”
“Be careful. Whatever those old mages did to that place, it wasn’t kind.”
“I’m always careful.”
“You’re never careful. You’re lucky. There’s a difference.” He starts walking back toward the village. “Try to come back alive, Velthar. The village needs its weird guardian mage. And I need someone to share my pipe with who doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all any of us can do.”
That night, Mariella finds me at the dungeon entrance.
I’m not going in—just standing there, feeling the mana flow, sensing the changes in the depths below. The dungeon is different since I cleared Floor 5. More active. More aware. Like a sleeping giant that’s starting to stir.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” she says. It’s not a question.
“I have to. The scouts bought us time, but it won’t last forever. Anton’s too smart to ignore anomalies indefinitely. Eventually, he’ll send someone to check on the ‘false positive.’ When he does, I need to be strong enough to deal with them without burning myself out.”
“I know.” She moves to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. “I just… I wanted to say something. Before you go.”
“What?”
She’s quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
“When I first came here, I was running. Just running, with no destination, no purpose beyond survival. I’d been doing it for so long I’d forgotten there was any other way to live.
” She turns to face me. “Then I met you. This strange, broken man who fights monsters and makes flower crowns for orphans and has a talking rabbit and claims to be two hundred years old.”
“All accurate so far.”
“You’re ridiculous.” But she’s smiling. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, and you’ve changed everything. Not just for me—for the whole village. You gave people something to believe in. Something to hope for.”
“I just cleared some dungeon floors.”
“You did more than that. You cared. Even when you pretended not to. Even when you tried to keep everyone at arm’s length.” She reaches out, touches my arm. “You cared. That’s rare. That’s valuable.”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to respond to someone seeing through all my defenses and deciding to stay anyway.
“I’m going to come back,” I say finally. “From the dungeon. From whatever happens next. I’m going to come back.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She moves closer. Rises on her toes. Brushes her lips against my cheek—soft, brief, barely there.
“Then I’ll be waiting.”
She walks back toward the cottage, leaving me alone with the dungeon and the night and a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with mana.
That was touching, Johnson observes from somewhere in the darkness. Really. I’m moved. My small rabbit heart is overflowing with emotion.
“Were you watching that whole time?”
I’m always watching. It’s my thing. He emerges from the shadows, hopping to sit at my feet. She’s good for you, you know. Makes you less… sharp. In a good way.
“I don’t need someone to make me less sharp.”
Everyone needs that. The sharpest blades break the easiest. A little flexibility keeps you whole.
I look down at him—at this impossible creature who’s become something like a friend despite my best efforts.
“When did you get wise?”
I’ve always been wise. You just weren’t listening. He turns toward the cottage. Come on. You need sleep before tomorrow. Dungeon diving on no rest is how adventurers become statistics.
I take one last look at the dungeon entrance.
Tomorrow, I go deeper. Tomorrow, I face whatever those ancient mages left behind.
But tonight, I sleep. And for once, I don’t dream of betrayal.