Vortena

by Neven Iliev

  *Clank-clank-clank*

  Heavy, metallic footsteps sounded from the rooms toward the rear of the tower. Fizzy gulped, readjusting the grip on her improvised mace in apprehension of what was to come. Three humanoid figures emerged almost simultaneously from each of the doorways and stepped into the fading day’s light that flooded in from the open entrance behind her. They were clad head-to-toe in blackened full plate armour that was covered in spikes, rust and scratches. Though it looked ancient, it was nevertheless intimidating, not to mention thick enough to absorb anything the gnome’s feeble arms could throw at it. Through their open-faced helmets Fizzy caught a glimpse of their rotten faces, bits of skull showing through the random spots where the flesh had fallen away completely.

  These undead were clearly different from the ones outside. Not only their armour but also their weapons made that abundantly clear. The one in the middle bore a huge greatsword that was nearly as long as he was tall, while the other two carried large, heavy shields and chipped longswords. A simple look at the way their armaments were held was enough to determine that they were not mere decorations, but tools of war that their wielders were clearly familiar with.

  These beings were Death Knights, a type of undead that was typically born from the corpses of skilled warriors who had died in battle against their own kind. They occasionally showed up in dungeons or places where especially bloody battles had taken place, but the vast majority of the time they were created. And indeed, judging from their rock-steady stances and loose attack formation, they were definitely not mindless corpses that charged at every living thing in sight. They had a master, an owner.

  One who apparently was not above personally greeting ‘visitors’ to their domain.

  “So, you’re the one who’s been making all that noise out there, hmm?”

  A cold voice dripping with malice echoed through the old tower. That was when Fizzy finally beheld the lich she and Boxxy had been looking for all this time. It seemed to walk calmly down the stone staircase, but a closer look revealed that that was not exactly the case. The lich did not walk, it floated. Not to mention that ‘it’ was quite obviously a ‘she.’

  The lich had the appearance of a human woman in her early twenties, her shoulder-length black hair tied in twin side-tails. The creature’s face was surprisingly beautiful, except for the sickening pale purple color of her skin and the glowing red irises floating amidst her pitch-black eyes. A thick metal collar was clamped around her neck, matching the shackles that bound her wrists and ankles. Ghostly chains dangled from her various bindings, fluttering like loose threads in the breeze despite the ominous rattling noises they were giving off.

  As for the rest of her womanly figure, it was wrapped in a series of ragged bandages that were either dark blue or gray – it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. The wrappings did not show off a lot of her putrid-coloured skin, but clung tightly to her body in a way that left little to the imagination. The cloth also tied her feet and ankles together in a way that would have made walking impossible even if she were to take off the heavy-looking shackles.

  However, the most eye-catching part of the lich was the enormous gem dangling from her neck to nestle between her shapely breasts, blazing with a crimson light that matched her eyes.

  Those same eyes now sized Fizzy up, almost as though she were trying to taste her.

  “What, a gnome?” she remarked in a patronising tone. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I-I-I-I-I’ll have you kn-know! I’m a P-P-Paladin! I’m not afraid of some stinking undead!”

  Fizzy tried to put up a strong front, but it was a pathetically weak attempt. The sheer disgust she felt looking at the thing that had once been a living woman made her skin crawl in a way she never would have thought possible. It wasn’t quite as bad as the near-crippling terror a displeased Boxxy could inspire, but it was still its own unique blend of awful.

  “Oh, a Paladin. How droll,” the lich rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you’re on some sort of righteous mission to slay me, are you not?”

  “W-Well … Y-y-yeah. I am, actually!”

  “Hah, typical. This is why I never liked you religious types. Always with the–”

  Metal flashed in the darkened room, interrupting her rant before it had even begun.

  [You have suffered a devastating blow. HP -942.]

  [Your undead constitution has prevented you from being Stunned.]

  [Proficiency level increased. Physical Nullity is now Level 3. END +12.]

  “SHREEEEEEAAAAAAA!”

  She let out an unearthly shriek, even though her kind were supposedly unable to feel pain. Her apparent agony wasn’t enough to stop her from turning transparent in the next instant as she fled from whatever it was that had just stabbed her in the back. Another mithril dagger swung at her as she retreated, but it passed harmlessly through her body as though she were a ghost. She drifted through her Death Knights, putting them between herself and the enemy she’d failed to notice, then turned to face her attacker, only to see a plain-looking wooden treasure chest. Granted, one that stood on eight giant arachnid legs and held two white daggers with a pair of red tongue-tentacles, but a chest nonetheless.

  Boxxy had activated Stealth and scuttled to the side the instant the lich’s minions had entered the room. Not even Fizzy had noticed its disappearance as it prepared to ambush its target.

  The Mimic had been fairly certain that the lich would respond to the intrusion of her territory, and when she had, it had taken advantage of her distraction to employ its Level 9 Assassinate Skill. Unfortunately, despite the devastating attack, it had failed to strike her down. And now that the lich was painfully aware of Boxxy’s presence, there would be no chance of ambushing her again.

  As for the lich herself, her pained expression was quickly replaced by one of absolute shock.

  “You… YOU!”

  Which then gave way to a look of pure rage that turned her otherwise attractive features ugly enough to match her personality.

  “You, again?!” she shrieked. “How many times! How many times do you have to kill me before you’re satisfied! You stupid fucking box!”

  Distracted by what should have been an impossible meeting, the lich had momentarily forgotten that there was a second intruder.

  “This is all your fa–“

  “Holy Light!”

  “AAAAAAAARRGH!”

  Fizzy’s magic enveloped the undead woman, transforming her tirade into a scream loud enough to deafen everyone around her. Her temporarily transparent body dissipated into mist in the next instant, melting away without a trace. The three Death Knights that were still lined up and awaiting the order to attack crumbled to dust, signifying that their master had indeed been slain.

  The tiny Paladin collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath.

  “Huff, huff, huff! Yeah! Take that!”

  Fizzy had never thought that she’d meet anyone as terrifying as Boxxy, and yet there she’d been. The sheer malice emanating from the lich-woman had been enough to freeze her in her tracks, but the Mimic’s reappearance had broken her out of her stupor. If not for that, or for the fact that Boxxy’s sneak attack had already caused the lich heavy damage, Fizzy would almost certainly have ended up as one of her servants.

  “Get up,” Boxxy commanded.

  Those words startled Fizzy, as she hadn’t even realised that it had gotten so close to her.

  “Ah, right!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “We should get out of–”

  “Have to find the lich.”

  “… Huh? Wasn’t that her?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Quest not done yet.”

  “… Alr-alright, Boxxy. Wh-wh-whatever you say, Boxxy!”

  The thoroughly-abused gnome didn’t even bother asking for its reasons. If the Mimic said jump, then she would already be in the air before the question of ‘how high’ had even popped into her head. Otherwise she risked having her ribs broken and her jaw dislocated. Even s
o, she couldn’t help but want to ask one thing. She knew it was a bad idea, but the part of her that thirsted for knowledge was too loud to ignore.

  “Uhm… B-B-B-Boxxy, did you know th-that woman?”

  The lich had seemingly recognised the monster, which, all things considered, was in no way a coincidence.

  “Yes.”

  Thankfully, the shapeshifter refrained from hitting her and answered her question in typical Boxxy fashion. Concise and to the point, with no additional information or context. Fizzy was therefore forced to ask the obvious follow-up question, but she figured that it was probably safe to do so.

  “Who… who was she?”

  “Someone I killed. Long time ago.”

  Indeed, this had been the second time that the Mimic had brought about that woman’s demise. Granted, the first time that it had killed her had been so long ago that it felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then. And yet it remembered her. How could it not? That particular kill had been rather… memorable. Her body had been the last thing that it had eaten before setting out to leave its birthplace behind, at a time when it was still being influenced by that dungeon.

  A time when the Necromancer known as Valeria Vortena had still been human.

  Part Four

  After defeating the lich, Boxxy and Fizzy set about searching the tower. Despite having killed what had appeared to be an intelligent undead being, the Quest remained unfulfilled, which Boxxy interpreted to mean that they’d gotten the wrong target. Seeing its old prey come back to ‘life’ like that was surprising, but it didn’t have the faintest idea how or why the woman had returned. Nor did it care. She had been an obstacle to be removed, nothing more. Therefore, rather than worry about the un-undead, it decided to focus its attention on looking for traces of its actual objective.

  The box-and-gnome pair began their search on the ground floor. It was just an empty space, including the back rooms where the Death Knights had come out from. This had probably been some type of reception area at one point, or maybe a guard post to keep unwanted visitors away from the upper levels. Regardless of its past purpose, it currently held no answers, so the duo moved higher.

  The first three floors were separated into a collection of dorm rooms, closets, pantries, and meeting rooms – enough space to comfortably house fifteen to twenty people. The third floor also had a semi-open central chamber that had probably been meant for recreation and large gatherings, or perhaps even a lecture hall. All the rooms contained very little of value – just old, dusty furniture, torn carpets, faded paintings and filthy rags that might once have been clothes.

  The only halfway-interesting thing that they found was a set of five stone busts that depicted four old geezers and a stern-looking granny, probably some important dead people. Oddly enough, the sculptures appeared completely untouched by the passage of time. Fizzy, desperate to appear useful, informed Boxxy that such artistic and/or enchanted antiques might be worth a small fortune to the right collector. The greedy monster immediately stowed them away in its Storage before moving on.

  The fourth floor had once been a massive library. While bookshelves still lined the walls, they were entirely empty. Not a single parchment or scrap of paper could be seen, just rows upon rows of empty, dusty shelves. The tower’s original residents must have taken all their research materials with them when they had abandoned this place. That, or its current residents had thrown them away.

  Ascending higher, they found a number of workrooms, or possibly laboratories. It was honestly difficult to tell. Like the library, the place had been stripped completely bare of anything useful. The only items of note they found were a few dusty tools which the gnome, being a craftsman herself, recognised as those commonly used by Alchemists and Enchanters.

  The sixth and final floor of the tower was a large hall connecting three smaller rooms. Each held heavy desks and even more cupboards and bookshelves. They also included an adjacent bedroom, suggesting that the ones who had lived here had been the most important people in the tower. All of the private quarters were, as expected, devoid of anything worth a damn. Even the wall safes, normally hidden by a sliding stone mechanism or painting, had been cracked open and emptied.

  In the end, they found no signs of active undead or anything else to indicate the presence of the lich they sought. Boxxy had counted a total of fourteen ash piles throughout the tower, which must have been the remnants of the defeated Necromancer’s other minions.

  It and Fizzy had spent the better part of two hours rifling through the place with very little to show for it. The sun had set long ago, and the gnome was forced to rely on a makeshift torch for light.

  “Uhm, B-B-Boxxy?” she stammered, just as the Mimic was wondering what to do next.

  It had to re-form its head before it could answer. The act took almost no time or effort, but doing so every time it needed to talk to the gnome was supremely irritating. It sorely missed the incredibly convenient telepathic link between itself and its familiars. Well, it was technically missing a lot of things, but right now that was the one at the forefront of its mind.

  “What?”

  And said irritation was quite obvious in the tone of its voice.

  “I r-really could use some, um, sl-sleep…”

  Her ‘owner’ only allowed her about five to six hours of sleep per night – considerably less than the full eight she had enjoyed before her life had gone to shit. She had mostly gotten used to this new regime, but today had been especially bad. The long march, the brief but mentally draining encounter with Valeria, and the Blight sapping her strength had made her so exhausted that she felt like she might just keel over. She was also starving and thirsty, but sleep had to come first.

  “No,” the Mimic replied bluntly.

  “W-why not?”

  “You’ll die from Blight.”

  Given her current condition, she would succumb to the disease and wither away if she didn’t heal herself every few minutes.

  “Uhm, I th-think I can just Consecrate a room and it’ll let me recover…”

  “No.”

  Fizzy looked desperate, but Boxxy was having none of it. It wasn’t worth the risk. It had put far too much time and effort into training the gnome to simply allow her to die of something as silly as a disease. It would be best to leave this place and resume their search elsewhere.

  “But-”

  *SMACK*

  A vicious kick to the face sent her flying across the room to crash into a stack of old chairs. Her increased endurance and vitality had made her much sturdier than she had been back when they had first partnered up, so it allowed itself to be a little extra rough when educating her.

  “We’re leaving now!”

  Fizzy held back the tears in her eyes and gave up on her hopes of getting a good night’s rest. Not only for tonight, but for the rest of her life. That was just how miserable she felt at this point in time.

  “Yes, Boxxy! Ri-right away Boxxy!” she said shakily, picking herself up from the ground. She healed herself with a couple of Holy Lights and meekly followed the violent box as it made its way back down the stairs.

  Boxxy spotted something amiss just as they entered the empty library on the fourth floor. In a blur of movement, it armed itself with its daggers and a shield, assuming a fighting stance. Without even realising, Fizzy reflexively reached for the heavy wrench on her back.

  Putting their guard up had been a wise choice, as a certain someone was waiting for Boxxy and its Paladin in the large chamber. Or rather, floating, right in the middle of the room, blocking the staircase leading down to the dorm area on the other side of the library.

  “H-How!” Fizzy shrieked. “Didn’t we kill you?”

  It was the same undead woman from a few hours ago, along with half a dozen zombified twin-tailed wolves.

  “You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to kill a lich!” Valeria sneered.

  She pointed directly at the intruders.

  “K
eep them busy.”

  The wolves snarled and lunged forward. Fizzy shook herself out of her stupor and prepared to cast Consecrate, but the lich had no intention of allowing her to finish. She bent forward and threw her arms behind her, letting out an unearthly, piercing howl. The noise was intense – as though a thousand fingernails were scratching a thousand blackboards for a thousand years, all condensed into one singular moment. It shattered Fizzy’s concentration instantly, preventing her from chanting. She fell to the ground, clutching her ears and screaming in agony yet unable to hear the voice pouring out of her own throat.

  Boxxy was in worse shape than she was, as it couldn’t even tell up from down, nor right from left. This was because the animate chest did not hear sounds with ears but by picking up vibrations in the air through its magical sonar. The natural ability was part of its biology, allowing it to perceive noises with far greater clarity and precision than people could, especially after acquiring the Perception (PER) Attribute. But the enhanced magical sense was working against it now, amplifying the ghastly screech to levels it hadn’t thought possible.

  However, unlike a certain pink-haired gnome that had curled up uselessly on the floor, Boxxy acted to make the sound go away. It withstood the sonic onslaught long enough to reacquire the position of the loudmouth in the room, then flung one of its daggers at her. The mithril knife flew true, striking the lich in the chest with enough force to make her lurch backwards and changing the nature of her scream from weaponised sound to a howl of pain.

  With the disturbance gone, Boxxy was able to engage the six wolves. It put away its remaining dagger and re-armed itself with a couple of swords, beheading two of the beasts in an instant. They were… much weaker than it had been expecting. Even if they were under the direct influence of a lich and thus far more powerful than their living counterparts, they were still bottom-feeders. Boxxy and Fizzy had fought similar wolves many times before, so the monster expected that they would have no trouble mopping them up. The most these cursed beasts could do was – just as Valeria had ordered – keep the Mimic busy for a few seconds.