Chapter 24: Direboar and Wraith

The next day, the direboar gave me a little more trouble—mostly because it had decided to group up in the same room as a fell-fox that I hadn’t killed yet. And when I arrived, the two of them formed a temporary truce to go after me.

It wasn’t really a truce. But the fell-fox and the direboar didn’t seem anywhere nearly as empty-minded as orcs and ruin-hounds did. They were probably just looking to kill me and then fight over my corpse—they’d been fighting over something when I arrived.

Regardless, the fox attacked from one direction, circling around the outside of the fountain, and the direboar attacked from the other direction, instead choosing to use its hulking mass to bash through the statue bust at the center of the room. Aside from its slightly longer sword-length tusks, it was just a massive boar, and it had ten times the strength.

Of course, it was a steel-tier beast as well.

It rammed its tusks into the wall as I rolled out of the way, and they plunged deep into the stone. It took the boar a few seconds to free itself, which I used to swipe my spear at the fox and keep it at bay.

I did my very best to focus on my surroundings, to consider the scene and what was actually present. There weren’t any traps to use to my advantage, nothing obvious, but there were two monsters that couldn’t communicate. One loved to charge, and the other loved to pounce.

If I could time it right, I might be able to get them to take each other out of the equation…

I kited the fox around the edge of the statue ruins, using jabs to hold it back and push it away, then lined it up with the boar. As the beast turned back to face me, I anticipated its charge and tried to let the fell-fox pounce on me.

The fox, however, was too quick, and I’d jumped away too soon. It knocked me flat onto my back, thrusting the air out from my lungs. The direboar crashed past, ramming into the wall again.

The fell-fox’s claws tried to sink into my scale mail, but I twisted to the side and its claws slipped off, leaving only a line of scratches on the surface. I wedged my spear into the fell-fox’s mouth, and without an orc riding it, the beast leapt back, dodging away from me before I could kill it right there.

So I took the moment to reset myself. I backed away, timing it and resetting my plan. I paid attention to my timings, shifted a little farther to the right, and allowed the boar to get a good look at where I was before I sprang the trap. The boar pounced, and I let the fox get closer again, its slathering maw reaching dangerously close to my face.

I scrambled back at the last moment. Milky-gray saliva splattered my face, and I instinctively blinked, preparing for the fox’s jaws to close around the side of my helmet, but there was no impact. The boar rammed the fox from the side, bashing it into the wall and impaling it on its tusks.

As the boar tried to pull itself back, I drove my spear once into its neck, then a second time into its eye. Both monsters fell dead, and I harvested a Presence from both of them.

I wiped my face and called it quits for the day. The next day, I returned to finish the job. I found the last monster I’d brought in here, the mud wraith, waiting in the very same room I’d left it in.

It hadn’t moved since I’d last seen it. It was just hovering there, head slumped, arms loose. The vague shape of a dress hung loose around its waist, fluttering in a nonexistent breeze.

I’d asked Shave what the mud wraiths were. He’d been hesitant to tell me, fearing I’d go after them, until I explained that I had already lured one into the Labyrinth. Reluctantly, he had explained, “Mud wraiths are the remains of orc slaves’ souls who don’t make it out from under the Shroud.”

“Don’t make it out from under the Shroud?” I’d asked back.

“The Shroud prevents souls from rising to Welkinmere. The souls that suffered the most in life tend to be the ones who get trapped. If you kill it, there’s a far better chance of them drifting west—and then rising up to the sky. Really, think about it as releasing the souls.”

“Does it drop a Presence?”

“Yes.”

After that conversation, I wished I’d killed the wraith sooner. I needed to free its souls. But better late than never. And apparently, this was a weaker one—most were Titanium tier, but this one was only Steel tier. It was probably close to increasing its tier, but it wasn’t there yet.

I took a fighting stance before I even entered the mud wraith’s room. It barely flinched as I entered. Brown sludge just dripped off its body, forming a puddle beneath it. I scanned the floor, looking for any bricks that seemed slightly too clean or smooth—those were the traps, and they were obvious because the Labyrinth Keepers reset them so often.

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There was nothing on the floors, but the walls boasted a ring of holes. What were the chances arrows flew from those?

But maybe I could use them to my advantage. I shifted my spear to the side, holding it in front of the hole in the wall and practically begging an arrow to fire out. After a few seconds, a pair of darts whistled from the hole in the wall.

Ah. Darts. I should’ve guessed that, too. They were probably poisoned.