Chapter 39 – Into the Dungeon

Chapter 39 – Into the Dungeon

Is this right?

Liria stood at the heart of the grand plaza before the gates of Cocytus, feeling troubled.

The place thrummed with life.

A sea of humanity pressed in from every side, a restless tide of armor, cloaks, steel, and spell-light. Adventurers had gathered from across the world, their presence written plainly in the diversity of their gear and bearing. Some wore polished plate etched with foreign sigils. Others favored leathers dyed in unfamiliar hues. Accents overlapped in the air, rising and falling in a constant murmur that blended with the clang of metal and the bark of merchants.

The gates themselves loomed above it all, carved directly into the face of a towering mountain. Their immense stone doors stood open, revealing only darkness beyond. Parties moved in steady rhythm, some entering with eager anticipation, others emerging weary but triumphant, their armor scuffed, their expressions sharp with hard-won experience.

Below, the plaza stretched wide and chaotic. Vendors shouted over one another, hawking potions, charms, and enchanted trinkets that glimmered under the afternoon light. The scent of spiced meat mingled with the sharp tang of alchemical reagents. Lone adventurers lingered at the edges, scanning the crowd for companions, their eyes calculating, hopeful, wary.

Beyond it all, the Dungeon Town thrived, its streets alive with commerce and laughter, utterly untouched by the dread that pressed against Liria’s thoughts.

This cannot possibly be right.

“Shouldn’t this place have been locked down by now?” she said, her voice slightly accusatory as she turned to Vaelir.

He regarded the scene with casual indifference, as if nothing about it merited concern. At her question, he gave a small shrug.

“Of course not,” he said. “Camilla and her dead goddess do not yet know that they’ve already been discovered. And we do not want them to know that we know.”

His hand lifted in a loose gesture toward the bustling plaza.

“It is in both sides’ interests that nothing appears out of the ordinary. Hence… this.”

Liria’s gaze returned to the crowd. A group of young adventurers laughed as they compared weapons, their voices bright with excitement. A merchant pressed a charm into a customer’s palm with practiced enthusiasm. Somewhere nearby, a bard struck a lively chord.

Everything felt… wrong.

“But…” She hesitated, struggling to reconcile what she saw with what she knew.

Vaelir reached over and lightly patted the back of her hand, the gesture almost absentminded.

“Everyone here is strong, Liria,” he said. “They are not fragile civilians wandering into danger unaware. These are adventurers. They know what they are doing.”

“You underestimate Vhal,” Liria argued.

“You overestimate her,” Vaelir said evenly. His eyes held hers, steady and unyielding. “I know she destroyed the world in your future, but that was after she had possessed Seris and spent three centuries building power.”

He turned his gaze toward the mountain, expression sharpening.

“What we saw in Elysium tells us what she is now. She cannot face us directly. She runs. She hides. That is the version we are dealing with.”

There was steel beneath his words now.

“We need to strike quickly. Without warning. Before she escapes again with her new host. Minimizing collateral damage is secondary.”

Liria fell silent.

The sounds of the plaza pressed in around her, louder now. The clatter of armor. The murmur of conversation. The distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer.

She considered his words carefully, turning them over in her mind, weighing them against memory and instinct alike.

Then, slowly, reluctantly, she inclined her head.

“…I understand.”

It still did not feel right. But Vaelir did not carry the same history she did. He did not remember the end of everything. His judgment was unburdened, and perhaps clearer for it.

Movement at the gates drew her attention.

A dignified couple emerged from the Dungeon entrance, their presence cutting cleanly through the crowd. Lord Caspian walked at the fore in shining armor that bore the marks of recent battle, faint scratches catching the light. Beside him, Lady Selina moved with quiet grace, her sacred robes stirring softly with each step, threads of divine magic lingering around her like a second skin.

They approached without hesitation and stopped before Liria, then bowed deeply.

“Great Lady,” Lord Caspian said, his voice carrying both restraint and hope. “Is it time? I have been keeping watch on the first floor since last we met. Through the Threads of Bonds you’ve granted me, I can still feel my daughter. She remains within the Dungeon’s depths.”

His jaw tightened, the next words forced through something heavier.

“And Camilla too. My… mother.”

The word seemed to cost him.

Selina’s hand found his, her fingers tightening in silent support. He drew a slow breath, steadying himself, and when he spoke again, his voice no longer wavered.

“Please let us accompany you, Lady Liria.” He bowed once more, deeper this time. “Please let us rescue our daughter with our own hands. Please let me settle things with Camilla.”

Liria blinked, caught off guard.

“…What of Elysium?” she asked.

“I have stepped down,” Caspian replied. His tone was calm and resolute. “My duties have been transferred to my cousin from the branch family. I no longer hold the position of Lord.”

Vaelir’s brow lifted slightly. “You seem remarkably untroubled by that.”

“Because it’s for the best.” Caspian’s voice was firm, enough to cut through any doubt. “After my failure, I have no right to remain in my position.”

His expression softened, just slightly, as he glanced toward Selina.

“And…” He hesitated, a faint awkwardness creeping in. “Being freed from my duties gives me more time to spend with my wife and daughter. I have a great deal to make up for.”

Selina gave him a sideways look. She said nothing, but the corner of her lips lifted in a small, reluctant smile that she did not quite manage to hide.

“Though,” she added, her voice quieter now as she squeezed his hand, “the crown has allowed Isolde the right to challenge for the position of heir when she comes of age. In recognition of our family’s long service.”

The warmth in her expression faded, replaced by something more fragile. “Now we just have to bring our daughter home.”

She bowed deeply to Liria. “Goddess of Life, please let us accompany you.”

Liria turned helplessly toward Vaelir. He chuckled, the sound low and amused.

“That debacle in Elysium might have given you the wrong impression of them,” he said. “But these two are far from weak.”

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His gaze lingered on them, assessing. “If they were adventurers, they would rank just below the highest tier. Caspian is particularly close to crossing that threshold. They will not slow us down.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And their connection to Camilla and Isolde may prove useful.”

Liria exhaled quietly, then nodded. “Very well.”

She turned back to the couple. “I will be counting on you, Sir Caspian. Lady Selina.”

They bowed again in unison. “We will not let you down, my Lady.”

For a short while, they waited.

The noise of the plaza seemed to dim around them, not in volume but in significance. Liria’s attention sharpened, senses narrowing as she waited.

Then the air beside them rippled.

Space itself folded inward, a distortion that shimmered like heat over stone. Aethon stepped through first, his presence steady and composed as always. Behind him came Seris, radiant and bright, and her guard knight, Theron, who remained watchful even in stillness.

Liria barely had time to react before Seris collided with her.

“Big Sis!”

Small arms wrapped tightly around her, warmth and energy bursting forth all at once. Seris buried her face against Liria’s chest, her voice muffled but overflowing with joy.

“Seris missed you so much! I will make a special exception this time, but you are not allowed to leave Seris alone for that long again!”

Liria let out a soft breath, her tension easing as she returned the embrace.

“I missed you too, Seris,” she murmured, her cheek brushing against that radiant golden hair. Seris smelled faintly of sunlight and something sweet, a warmth that felt almost tangible.

“Hmmm,” Seris hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer like a spoiled kitten. She made no move to let go.

Aethon gave Liria a small nod, his expression serious. “I’m ready, Liria.”

Liria reached into her storage and withdrew a pair of enchanted glasses, handing them to him. They were layered with intricate spellwork, the result of long hours spent alongside Ilyrien and Kaerthis studying the magic mirror Camilla had used to escape.

Aethon turned them slightly, examining the craftsmanship before slipping them on.

Liria’s gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

Her brother looked good in glasses, she thought, with more than a little amusement.

But beneath it all, unease stirred.

The dead goddess had been meticulous. The mirror had yielded almost nothing, its magic stripped down to faint traces that resisted even her scrutiny. After nearly a month of work, this had been the best they could achieve. A way to perceive similar wavelengths, nothing more.

Would Vhal really be as easy to deal with as Vaelir believed?

She pushed the thoughts aside. Doubt would not help them now.