A Cold-Blooded POV

The lands below the citizens call it, formally known as Labyrinths and Dungeons. They are pretty much the heart and soul of Atinen, exploration of them has been the task of all civilized races since the creation of the continents.

Surface dwellers have always felt an attraction toward them. However, traversing the unknown will forever be a dangerous venture; only those willing to risk death can gain any reward worth having from its secrets.

In ancient times delvers ventured down into these large block cave-like entrances not knowing how far they'd travel or if their bones would be discovered long after by curious delvers. The ones who survived returned with tales of what loomed in the lands below.

Monsters or not, The prospect was so exciting that people took up the mantle for themselves—risking life and limb against terrible odds in search of precious resources. Monsters would drop cores, a very precious orb depending on the color, these were beneficial to all races. And the dungeons held priceless resources itself.

Empires and kingdoms raced to try and claim as much of the dungeon as they could before any others could compete. It turned into a competition, whoever claimed more of the dungeons and labyrinths became the more powerful kingdom, wars broke out and treaties were broken one after another.

But eventually many turned away. It became clear that even those brave enough to challenge the deepest depths were getting nothing but death and destruction when things went awry.

So most moved on, turning instead to delving closer to the surface where weaker monsters are, but also where inferior rewards could be had. Even now though, some still take risks going deep into the dungeon, trying to find hidden treasures and glory at the cost of certain death.

Only a few powerhouses are truly at the top of the food chain, establishing kingdoms, empires, and bases deep within.

Excerpt from "Golden Ages of Atinen" Chapter 6. By Fifth Circle Middle-Rank Mage, Oliver Sun.

***

*Tak*

*Tak*

The footsteps of the large framed man echoed each time he laid his foot on the marble floor. Wilfred was on his way to the armory. In his large, rough, hands he was carrying a magic sword, a magic axe, and a bow- the weapons of the previous recruit members of the Tremblebane guild.

Finally coming to a halt, He stopped in front of the door that read 'armory.' On the door was a piece of paper with a note written in illegible handwriting.

'I'm busy. Don't enter this room unless you want to die.' It read.

Wilfred sighed and sucked his teeth, the stubby old man, Roy, was probably in his shop hammering away at metal and iron. This meant even if he wanted to just knock on the door, he couldn't, Roy wouldn't hear him. He enervatedly reached down into his guild coat pocket, rummaging for the keys to the door.

The guild mansion itself held many secrets hidden within it. Some were easy enough to figure out; some not so much. Even if you knew how to get somewhere or what room you needed, sometimes you would have no idea which key fit where.

This has caused Wilfred to kick down countless amounts of doors. Melinda had pestered him more times than he could count, stressing about the funding that was coming out of the guild's treasury because of him.

With a 'tick' sound, the door unlocked. The heavy metal slab slid open silently without so much as a click or even a squeak of any kind. Wilfred walked into the Armory's main room.

It was massive, filled with all kinds of different equipment from armor to weaponry; there were more than twenty workspaces for other blacksmiths to operate in, however, they were all empty.

The stubborn and short-tempered old man, Roy, wouldn't allow any 'idiots' to touch a hammer, which lead to him being the only blacksmith in the guild.

Wilfred began unloading all three weapons from his back onto one of the long wooden tables. One at a time, he laid them out before taking a seat on top of another table across the way from the entrance. From the corner of his eye, he saw a small shadow cross behind him; Wilfred quickly spun around.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wilfred asked sternly while holding the large piece of wood the bronze-skinned blacksmith swung towards him.

"Tch!". Roy gave up on his attack, taking the large piece of wood and tossing it in the furnace.

"I thought you were an intruder, that's why I swung the log at you." He said blankly.

"Then why did you suck your teeth after your attack failed even after seeing me?" Wilfred mused.

"Hmph! Who knows, anyway why are you here, I have work to do." The stubby blacksmith put his hands on his waist awaiting a response.

Wilfred simply turned around and fetched the three weapons that were on the other table, then passed them to Roy.

Upon grabbing the weapons Roy immediately recognized the weapons. They belonged to the trio of the annoying youngster group that always troubled him. He looked up at Wilfred and asked.

"This belongs to that boy, Blake… something, and his friends, right? That idiot boy, all he knows how to do is irritate me, I don't get why the recruit captains praise him so highly, I bet he can hardly swing a sword."

Wilfred's face was unchanging and stern, his blue eyes stared down at the blacksmith conveying his seriousness. Seeing this, Roy also got serious, the guild master didn't even have to explain the situation to him, he had already got the gist of it from Wilfred's facial expression alone.

Roy turned around and walked towards one of the empty workstations and began polishing the weapons. Without looking back at Wilfred, he spoke.

"They're dead right? Damn idiots…"

Wilfred stood silent for a couple of seconds then replied, "No, not all of them. One survived".

Roy continued to polish the weapons, "Only one? Seems at least one of them had the gods on his side".

Wilfred walked closer placing his hand on an open space on the work desk. "Roy, you knew they were going to the dungeon didn't you?"

Hearing this Roy's polishing paused, however, he still didn't turn around. "Tch! Like those newborns could fool me. Those boys wouldn't be able to lie to me even if they had tried 20 years earlier."

"And you didn't stop them? This could have all been prevented!" He slammed his large fist on the metal work desk leaving a deep fist mark engrained into the metal.

Roy finally turned around, his face as hard as stone. "If the lads wanted to go and get themselves killed in the lands below that's on them. My job is up here on the surface, my only duty is these weapons, anything other than that is none of my business."

Wilfred stared at the blacksmith, he wasn't upset with Roy's tone, he had always been this way, even back in the day when they were both young and reckless.

Wilfred sighed. 'Seems I've been sighing a lot recently. My days might be getting shortened.' He thought.

"Anyway, now looks like I have to deal with the Enforcers. This is such a pain in the ass".

Roy chuckled hearing the regular blunt and carefree tone come back in Wilfred's voice. "The Enforcers, that bunch? Hahaha! Good luck. Anyway, it's been a while since we've had an abnormality in the lands below. What was it this time?"

Wilfred blinked. "The healers said Blake mentioned a giant reptile or some kind of lizard. I'm still not sure of the specifics, we will find out once Melinda gets his insignia and we play back the mana recording."

Suddenly, fast and loud footsteps resounded through the hallway outside of the armory. Both Roy and Wilfred quickly looked in the direction of the door. Coming barging through in was a guild messenger, he look exhausted from running.

"S-sir….the-the…-"

Hearing the messenger's weak and stuttering voice a vein bulged in Roy's head. "Spit it out, boy!"

"It's the Enforcers, they're here!"

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