Mage Tank

The legion was spread out in a large chamber that looked like it might have once been an outdoor field. The side where Nuralie and I perched had windows and large doors that gave the impression of a building’s exterior wall. The observation platform was about three stories up, with the second story featuring several small terraces accommodating tables and six-legged pieces of furniture beneath the ice, which I assumed were lounge chairs. There were a few dark forms beneath the ice that looked as though some of the Zng had been trapped within.

On the other hand, the field was a featureless expanse with a floor of hard-packed earth. Several large poles stuck out of the ground with thin metal ropes and rigging that might have once held flags. The field was primarily surrounded by smooth walls made of the brickwork we’d dug out above. On the two sides closest to us were decorated arches leading to wide tunnels, their surface covered in time-worn engravings.

The soldiers–true to Nuralie’s description–were arrayed into hundred-person formations, each member standing upright and at attention with their ‘rifles’ aimed at the ground. They stood in squares of ten by ten, with three hundred-strong formations per row, five rows deep. Each formation had a single soldier standing ahead of the rest, which identified as the commander. I couldn’t find an officer who looked to be in charge of the entire legion, someone I’d expected to be at the front of the legion.

The soldiers wore armor similar to what we’d seen in the main hall leading in. Matte black, with a hint of blue at the joints, although the stuff in the field was less intricate. The commanders only had a small streak of brighter blue on their left shoulders to distinguish them from the rank and file.

The holes in the helmets were, indeed, for horns. Each soldier had a pair of ivory horns sweeping forward from their heads. Their sizes were somewhat irregular but seemed to match the relative height of the soldiers, similar to any other organic feature, like the size of someone’s feet. There didn’t seem to be any pattern based on size, although some soldiers had streaks of silver in their horns, with a smaller number having half or more of one or both horns replaced by the metallic substance.

This might have been a decorative choice like tattooing, but looked more like pottery that had been repaired with lacquer and gold. Silver, in this case. Kintsugi was the term if memory served. That made me think the horns had been carefully repaired. The ones that had been replaced might have been closer to prosthetics than intentional body mods.

The smallest of the soldiers was around my height, with the most vertically gifted standing nearly eight feet tall. Their heads were entirely obscured by matte helms, with diverse, monstrous visages on each face.

In the air above them were three of the Preserved Zng Serpents. They were covered in shifting, rotten meat that swirled around gore-covered bone. Their heads were indeed shaped like a bull’s, although the horns swept at a more forward angle than a bull’s, like they were meant to charge straight forward and skewer something; more of a weapon than a defensive tool.

In total, the chamber was about 250 feet wide and 400 feet deep. The legion fit comfortably, but only just. The two tunnels were wide enough for five people to walk abreast, so evacuating the chamber could be done swiftly, but it would still take some time. I wouldn’t have called it a fire hazard normally, but we weren’t about to start a normal fire.

Before any of that, however, I needed to make sure these Zng were actually hostile. The chances they’d be friendly were low but, hey, maybe this Delve was a social challenge. Weirder things had happened.

Nuralie stayed in position while I slid away and floated back down to ground level.

“Alright, I’m on board with trying diplomacy first,” I thought to the party, “but I can see at least one fatal flaw in that approach.”

“We do not know what language they speak,” Nuralie finished for me.

“Yeah. Hard to negotiate through a language barrier.”

[Fortunately, you have access to an ancient intelligence with endless libraries of dead languages on hand. I can translate for you, but I believe it would be better if you learned the language yourself.]

I sighed and considered Grotto’s offer. My birth sign gave me a massive aptitude for languages, but I still had to study. I couldn’t just magically understand what they were saying.

“How long did it take you to learn Imperial?” asked Xim.

“A month of casual study. Maybe 100 hours total.”

[You have gained substantial improvements in Intelligence and Speed since then. Although this language does not share a common root with Imperial, I expect the process will be much faster, regardless.]

“Okay. Let’s back off and I’ll give it a shot. Nuralie can stay and keep watch. Hopefully, these guys stay put like they have for the last however many thousands of years.”

*****

Two ten-hour sessions with a one-hour break. That’s how long it took me to become passably fluent in the dead language of Zng.

The only reason I’d wanted the break is because–while it wasn’t killing us–the Wicked damage was a persistent, uncomfortable sensation. I felt like an electric current of sadness constantly permeated my body. It wasn’t enough to break my concentration, but it added to my mental fatigue. On that note, if our regen hadn’t outpaced the Wicked damage, there was no way I’d have been able to take a twenty-one-hour scholastic intermission.

The rest of the party spent the time productively. Xim and Nuralie meditated on their revelations–the latter able to keep watch while doing so–while Etja worked on layering her gravity spell, Siphon, onto Varrin’s attacks. She’d been trying to weave her spells into everyone else’s Active Skills over the last few days, with a decent amount of success.

Everyone also took naps, aside from Nuralie and I. The soldiers stood as still as the corpses they were, the entire time. It seemed like the miasma was the Delve’s main way to press the party forward.

Once I was done, everyone roused themselves and got ready to jump into action as soon as things went sideways. I walked the rest of the way down the hall to enter the legion’s field via the normal route. A set of large double doors at the end of the hallway was wide open, and it didn’t take long before the first commander noticed me.

I had my hands in the air, trying to look as non-threatening as I could. Sure, I was wearing full heavy-plate armor, but Gracorvus was stored in its armguard and Somncres wasn’t summoned. Plus, who’d be threatened by a friendly guy in a feather boa?

The first commander barked a single syllable at the other two. They turned, then followed his gaze to see me slowly approaching. Each one signaled their company. The front row of all three forward groups shifted to raise their weapons. They were still pointed at the ground but at a shallower angle. I came to a stop as the three commanders exchanged a few terse sentences.

The language of the Zng was flowy and elegant, close to what I’d imagined Elvish might sound like. Unfortunately, this musical language was somewhat marred by the gristle and bone the Undead commanders had for vocal chords.

After a brief discussion, one of the commanders marched forward. Maybe this one was the ranking officer, or maybe they’d drawn the short straw. The other two stepped around their companies and out of the line of fire.

The approaching officer paused twenty feet away and shouted a question at me.

“What hand falls upon the diadem?” the raspy Undead commander asked.

I barely managed to keep a frustrated expression off my face.

“Any idea how to respond to that, Grotto?” I thought to my familiar.

[I can think of enough potential replies that selecting one to give preference to is likely futile. The question references a Zng historical anecdote, wherein touching the diadem has deep cultural significance. This significance varies based on context, however. It was frequently used to request a passphrase, which seems the most likely use here.]

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“Then he just asked ‘What’s the code word?’”

[If I were forced to choose an interpretation, yes.]

“Is it possible the answer is ‘Girls suck,’ or ‘Open sesame’?”

[Gender segregation was not a common phenomenon amongst the Zng. Perhaps you should try ‘Password’.]

“123456?”

[Alphabetics are more likely. ‘ABCDEF’?]

“What about special characters?”

[How would you express that phonetically?]

“Secret at code dot phrase.”

[Yes, go ahead and try that one. I am certain you are onto something.]

I sent Grotto a psychic eye roll and pushed down my irritation at learning an entire language only to get stonewalled with the first sentence.

“Apologies,” I said. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. I’m actually a diplomat from a foreign nation. Perhaps I could speak to someone in leadership?”

The commander jumped backward, disappearing behind their company. Thirty soldiers raised their weapons, aiming at me instead of the ground.

They opened fire.

I had Gracorvus up and ready to intercept, but the strange rifles didn’t fire kinetic projectiles. I heard a rapid scattering of pops as small spatial distortions formed in the air around me, leaving vacuums in their wake as they cracked against my armor and shield. I felt them tug at the flesh beneath my exposed limbs before I dropped down to cover my entire body with my shield.

The hits stung but weren’t particularly effective. Each pop that made it past my shield only did ten or so damage, but each soldier was firing multiple shots per second. Without Gracorvus taking the bulk of the beating, they’d have shredded me in a couple of seconds.

“Soft diplomacy has failed,” I thought to the group.

“Swapping to hard diplomacy,” Xim replied.

Xim appeared on the platform above us and dropped Judgment in the middle of the company standing front and center.

Judgment had a ten-foot radius, which hit fifteen or so soldiers in the middle of the company. Each of those fifteen soldiers was Ignited with Divine fire, which dealt a healthy tick of Righteous damage. If that’s all the effect did, we’d have still been in a pretty rough spot. However, Xim had a nifty Passive skill that made the spell way, way more devastating for tightly grouped enemies.

Fire Spreader

Whenever you Ignite an enemy, for every second they remain Ignited there is a 50% chance that another enemy within 5 feet of them will become Ignited. This chance may only occur a number of times equal to your CHA divided by 10 per Ignited enemy, with a minimum number of instances equal to 2.

Xim had a Charisma of 46, meaning each Ignited soldier would, on average, Ignite two more soldiers within five feet of them. Those soldiers would then Ignite two more standing next to them, and so on. The fire would rapidly spread and consume the entire company if something didn’t intervene to stop it.

There were about fifteen feet between companies, which was too far for the fire to spread on its own. With discipline, the damage could have been contained. Sadly for the Zng, Etja and I started making containment more difficult.

Etja rushed down the hall behind me at full speed, reaching out to embrace me with her soul and merge Siphon into my next spell. I used Therianthropy and leapt into the air, keeping as much of my body hidden behind Gracorvus as possible. I felt out the center of the company and snapped my fingers, dropping an instant-cast Explosion!

Explosion!’s normal knockback was enhanced by Etja’s gravity magic, hurling the Ignited soldiers like they weighed next to nothing, which they did for a few seconds. Several of the flaming Zng scattered into the midst of their neighboring companies, once more beginning the spread of the flames.

The Zng had the discipline of well-trained soldiers and the single-mindedness of unfeeling dead. Even so, the scene quickly broke down into chaos. There wasn’t enough room for the Zng in the back to safely maneuver around the flames, and any who tried were Ignited in short order.

The commanders each had ways to extinguish the flames on themselves, but while buried in a press of fire-spreading bodies, the status effect simply hit them again.

Meanwhile, our party was immune to the effect. In fact, Xim’s fire was beneficial to us, granting us a light Cleanse when we moved through it. We rushed into the inferno and began cutting down the commanders before they could get organized, then used our skills to knock more Ignited soldiers into the companies behind them.

My Elemental Barrier shoved enemies thirteen feet back to its edge, Etja hurled people around with Siphon, and Varrin simply grabbed soldiers and chucked them away. Nuralie sniped the more distant commanders, while Xim spammed Judgment to further accelerate the conflagration.

The three Zng Serpents posed the greatest danger but were smart enough to stay above the flames. They charged Xim, who tried to use her Fear AoE to scare them off. Sadly, the Undead were resistant to those shenanigans, and I was forced to intervene.

I teleported in front of Xim and used Elemental Barrier for area denial, then cast Explosion! to try and knock them away. The Serpents had size and momentum behind them, allowing them to resist the knockbacks, but they opted to release billowing clouds of noxious gas rather than skewer me with their horns.

The gas was nasty, filling the air with impenetrable darkness while applying Toxicity and Bleeding along with a dose of Wicked damage. Against someone else, it would probably have been devastating.

For me, it was annoying.

I kept track of the enemies through the darkness with Soul-Sight, had solid Poison resistance from my gear and Exposure Therapy achievement, was immune to Bleeding, and the Wicked damage wasn’t serious enough on its own to threaten my massive health pool.

Xim Ignited the Serpents while I stayed in their faces to keep them busy. Their bone and rotten flesh bodies were weak to Blunt damage, allowing my hammers to chunk away massive shards of snake spine. Their charges meant to gore me had trouble penetrating my defenses, leaving me to believe their breath weapons were their primary offensive weapon. Denied that, they weren’t so bad.

Varrin and Etja broke away from the legion once the fire was omnipresent to support the fight, and the Serpents were dealt with before I had too many holes in me. I flew down into the raging fire to cleanse what Toxicity had built up, and would need to wait thirty minutes for my regen to clear the Wicked damage. Overall, I wouldn’t have called the encounter trivial, but we’d been well set up for it.

Varrin tried to pull a few commanders from the flames for interrogation, but once Xim extinguished them, the commanders chose to end themselves rather than give up any intel. Their souls broke apart and dissipated in a scant few seconds. Irritating, but I could respect the tactic.

In less than a minute the Undead legion had been reduced to a field of ash. Even their equipment had broken apart into crumbling dust, whatever magicks holding it together fading with the souls of the Zng. We got a wealth of knowledge on the Zng’s combat capabilities, but next to nothing relating to the Delve’s layout or the location of the armory and the Zng’s supreme commander.

The fight had been profitable in other ways, though.

Your party has slain 1 Zng Legion: Undead Horde, Grade 23

Your party receives the following rewards:

1) 18 Emerald Chips

2) 1,500 Ruby Chips

3) 18 Death Essences

You receive 3 Emerald Chips and 300 Ruby Chips. The remainder of 3 Emerald Chips has been awarded to Xim Xor’Drel for outstanding contribution.

As party leader, you receive 18 Death Essences.

“Fair enough,” I said, reading through the notification. “That’s a lot of mana chips, but less than we’d get per enemy for similar Grades based on our prior Delves.”

“Are we getting short-changed, Grotto?” asked Xim.

[Many factors affect chip rewards. The System considered the legion a singular entity, yet the rewards were higher than if the legion actually were a single Grade 23. While I support your jaded descent into greed in the face of vast wealth, I believe this was an outsized payment for the difficulty of the challenge.]

“Sure, sure,” I said. “It would have been way harder if they’d just had a good sprinkler system. You know, one filled with some kind of unholy water that worked on Xim’s Divine fire.”

“What now?” asked Etja. “Do we pick a hall and go for it?”

“Let me feel around some more with Coordinated Thinker,” I said. “That hallway was more than two miles long, so we’ve advanced a decent distance. Maybe I can figure out which direction is better.”

“Why make a hallway that’s two miles long, anyway?” asked Xim.

[There are several reasons the Delve Core might have elongated it. I doubt it was an original feature of the Throne.]

While everyone else chatted, I sat down and closed my eyes, searching through the facility for valid Shortcut destinations. Going more than a half mile or so would drain all of my mana, but I could still use the sense to cheat a bit. Now that I’d had a good look at the legion, I could root around for similar groups. It was slow and tedious, but the information we’d gain was worth it. Since the Delve didn’t have a time limit, we planned on taking this one nice and slow.

That was the plan, anyway.

“Found a total dead spot,” I said, after two hours of searching. “I’m betting it’s the vault and that it’s warded to shit against teleportation and such. If we fight through another legion I can probably move us strangeward with Shortcut to jump past its defenses without burning all my mana.”

“Then,” said Xim, “you can stuff everything inside your effectively limitless inventory and we can go look for the boss.”

“Sounds great!” said Etja.

[I can only imagine what a nightmare this party is for whatever unfortunate Core is in charge.]

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