117. Happy Place

  Rules—insomuch as they existed at all—were meant to be broken. And today, Team Serac rewrote the rulebook at a furious pace hitherto unmatched in the centuries-long history of the Realmhunt.

  What had begun as a fairly traditional setup had ballooned into three hunters aided by two spotters-turned-cheerleaders. Never mind that the new additions hadn’t even been registered in this year’s competition. A team headlined by a pair of outrealmers would gladly take all the help they could get—and by gods, did they need it!

  As it turned out, in a game contested as much underwater as on land, it was quite useful to have a strong swimmer on your side. And Renate the tree-frog Yaksha was as proficient as they came.

  A loop that had started with a dense procession of Mennesketers quickly ramped up to the arrival of Jotuneters. Renate took it upon herself to harry the tentacled monsters onto solid ice—for the smiting pleasure of her landbound ‘teammates’.

  [Elemental Surge] to generate powerful ‘geysers’ at the chokepoint, pushing the Jotuneters through the surface and high into the air. Then Serac and Zacko would take it from there.

  With the benefit of a level playing field, the outrealmers produced a dramatic turnaround to their middling performance from earlier. The pugilist occupied the Jotuneter’s attention at melee range, putting his dodge-tank capabilities to the test. Meanwhile, the gunslinger chipped away at the kraken’s considerable health pool from a safe distance, using every tool at her disposal to maximize the value of each individual bullet.

  Serac’s thinking was as follows. Given the bountiful haul this particular loop was churning out, she’d surely be fighting a lot of Aberrants, with hopefully the ‘big one’ still waiting in the wings. All this, and no time for a reconstitution break, which meant she had to be extra-choosy about which of her resources to burn.

  Cartridge was something she couldn’t afford to exhaust completely; no matter what or how she fought, she needed her ammunition. HP was another precious resource—for obvious reasons, but also as a secondary source of damage buffs.

  Which then left MP and Satiety. The former she could heal with Renate’s [Pearl of Wisdom], while the latter she had plenty to spend, having started the day on a full stomach. The choice was obvious, and it dictated how she engaged with the wave after wave of Wildspawns that threw themselves at her and her six-shooter.

  [Appetizer] to maintain a continuous 34-point buff per Cartridge. [Embalmer] to sic pesky Mennesketers on their tentacled cousins. PULVERIZER’s [Grind] whenever she got within melee range herself. She even let Ash in on the action; the [Blood-tipped Javelins] were a handy way to [Bleed] a tanky kraken without having to drain her own HP.

  Economy and efficiency were the name of the game, at least until its eventual final act. These were some of Serac’s most hectic and skill-intensive smites in recent memory, but they were also by far the funnest. Sure, the stakes as well as the score-keeping aspect might have something to do with that, but Serac knew there was a much simpler, purer reason for her enjoyment.

  Teamwork. Camaraderie. Connection. A Yaksha made her waves, a Manusya swung his fists, a living castle shed its blood, and through it all, a Rakshasa dealt her smiting blows.

  It just felt right—round pegs fitting snugly into round holes.

  At some point in all the hectic fighting, shooting, and smiting, it occurred to Serac that this was where she belonged. Her happy place. A trio plus their loyal Steed, working in perfect balance and harmony—covering each other’s weaknesses and elevating each other’s strengths.

  Sure, the Karmic rewards might’ve been diluted further by the addition of a third Wayfarer, and someone would be especially upset about that. But for the amount of fun she was having, Serac deemed the ‘pay cut’ to be well worth it. What was more, she soon realized she wasn’t alone in her opinion.

  It happened somewhere between the third Jotuneter Renate dug up and maybe the thirtieth Mennesketer Zacko kicked into oblivion. The partial Circlet around Serac’s right temple ‘flared up’ again, but this latest sensation was nothing like the pain she’d come to associate it with.

  A pulsing warmth, almost pleasurable in its playful touch. Whom- or whatever this third entity was meant to be, they were clearly a big believer in fighting as a team. Or was it this team in particular? Either way, this extra bit of ‘encouragement’ only heightened Serac’s oneness with the moment.

  Which was why, when the loop eventually did ‘end’, Serac’s first reaction was one of annoyance.

  The Wildspawn waves died off, and a wintry serenity returned to the frozen landscape. Serac’s mood was anything but serene, however, as she glared at the now ripple-less chokepoint like it owed her acorns. She’d been having so much fun, and she just wanted more. More fights, more smites, more feeding off the energy and competence of her teammates.

  But then she remembered herself and her whole reason for being here in the first place. Annoyance quickly soured into despair. Had this loop been a dud? Even after all the smiting—and after committing their whole supply of [Frostkrillbane]—did Team Serac have another ‘dead spot’ on their hands?

  Splash!

  The chokepoint did spit something out, but it was Renate’s hooded, pink figure. The frog woman obviously deemed her ‘dredging’ duties over and done with, which was another nail in the coffin for Serac’s dying hopes. But wait:

  “Your stone house,” Renate spoke with no preamble, though it was clear to which stone structure she referred to. And despite the woman being drenched from head to toe in freezing water, there wasn’t a single hitch to her voice. “I assume it’s your Steed, yes? It’s this thing that was leaving ‘bite marks’ all over the ice?”

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  Serac didn’t know about any bite marks, but the description tracked with the teeth-like mechanisms that churned at Ash’s base. She nodded, then felt the need to add:

  “It’s a castle, by the way.”

  “Really? You call that thing a castle?” Renate said, her amphibian eyes narrowing into a frown. Her skepticism was a little hurtful but also understandable, given the unorthodox ‘renovation’ Ash had undergone one Realm below. “Never mind. Get Inge, Munkfred, and the mackerel man into this ‘castle’, then get them as far away from here as possible. It’s coming.”

  It took Serac a hot second to twig exactly what was ‘coming’, but once she did, her face lit up.

  “The Frostkrill? You mean we did it? You’re sure about this?”

  Renate nodded without looking in Serac’s direction. Instead, her eyes were busy scanning in all directions.

  “I’m absolutely certain. There’s no mistaking the Frostkrill’s ripple signature after you’ve read it once.”—she then pointed a padded finger at a lotus flower in the distance—“Is that your Waystation there?”

  “You bet! But wait, did you just say ‘read it once’? Does that mean you’ve—?”

  “I’m going to use it, just to tether myself,” Renate announced, already breaking into a run as she did. She then looked over her shoulder to add, “I can trust you to take care of the rest, yes?”

  “What? Um, sure, I guess, but… should Zacko and I be meditating too?” Serac asked as she glanced at her own Pathsighted status, noting the new Liminal Karma total of [27,811 ?], paired with a Realmhunt score of [500]. “I think I’ve got enough to level, and I could certainly do with some top—”

  “No!” came Renate’s sharp reply. The Yaksha had even stopped in her tracks for emphasis. “The Frostkrill will arrive any moment now, and at least two hunters must be present to receive it. That’s why ‘we’ even have these stupid rules in the first place. And I wouldn’t worry about reconstituting; you’ll be doing that soon enough anyway.”

  Wow, Renate, thanks for that vote of confidence! Serac had wanted to say, but the frog woman spun around again before she could get the words out. After that, the Rakshasa was left to see to the task assigned by her senior Wayfarer.

  But despite her earlier assurances, said ‘task’ proved trickier than she’d anticipated.

  “I refuse to h—h—hide inside a toasty cabin while you and Mister Zacko take on the Frostkrill,” was Petter’s excuse for sticking to the castle ramparts, where he’d already spent the whole loop feeding [Javelins] to Serac. “I’m T—T—Team Serac’s spotter, aren’t I? I’ve got to see this through to the end!”

  “And if you think I’d miss a chance to cheer on my Renna, then you don’t know me at all, and I look forward to us getting to know each other better, dear.”

  And Munkfred was Munkfred. It followed Inge’s lead, come hell or frozen water.

  Serac was torn. She wanted her Anchored friends—both new and old—tucked away to safety as much as the next Wayfarer, but how could she possibly refuse earnest Petter, sweet old Inge, and stalwart Munkfred?

  As for Zacko, despite his well-documented aversion to ‘iffy situations’, he had this to say:

  “Don’t think there’s winning this argument, princess. These souls already cast their lot, and we should take it as a point of pride and honor that they’ve thrown in with us. Now, we just have to do our part to prove they’ve made the right choice.”

  And that was that. A compromise was reached, whereby Munkfred once again found itself stuck within the four walls of Ash’s ramparts. Inge and Petter squeezed into the resultant gutters; not the most comfortable seats in the house, perhaps, but ones that boasted a good view of the action.

  “Keep your distance, and be ready to dash off at the first sign of trouble,” Serac left her living castle with last-minute instructions, receiving only a half-hearted ‘creeaa…?’ in response. It didn’t inspire the utmost confidence, but she’d have to take it for now. She couldn’t fault her Steed for wanting to stay close to her, and besides, if Renate were to be believed, there wasn’t much time left to—

  Crack! Grrakk! Skrrsshhh…

  If Zacko’s mama were to be believed, ‘there’s a first time for everything’. And this, as it turned out, was Serac Edin’s first experience with an icequake.

  The whole Realm shook—or close enough to make no difference. Serac immediately lost her footing as the ice beneath her cracked and began to split apart. Yet, even as she fell to her knees, her first instinct was to get eyeballs on Ash and its passengers.

  The stone-walled Steed proved much sturdier and perhaps even nimbler than its master. Its teeth were already at full churn as it sped away from the icequake’s epicenter. Atop its ramparts, a snow-dusted mound, a round-eyed mackerel, and a bundle of blankets poked their heads out—shaken and stirred, perhaps, but not rattled.

  Serac took courage from their example. Her friends were watching, and eagerly awaiting her victory. She couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t let herself down. This thing might be BIG enough to send its ripples through an entire frozen sea, but it wouldn’t be the first giant monster the Serac-Zacko partnership smited.

  Soon, the icequake gave way to the ripples themselves. Serac hadn’t even been trying to read, but she received the signals all the same. Her horns—her ‘scale substitute’—bucked and shuddered with such intensity she was sure they’d snap clean off. And through this most violent and oppressive tutelage, a Rakshasa managed her clearest ripple-read yet.

  A leviathan that lurked in the abyssal deep. No, not lurked—no longer. The thing whipped its monstrous tail about as it made its rapid ascent, leaving maelstroms and mass graves in its wake.

  As it rose, all of its multitudinous ocular globes—too many to count—rotated ever inward, maintaining their focus on the two souls to which it owed its latest feast.

  “Get ready, Zacko!” Serac shouted at the top of her lungs just to hear herself. “It’s co—”

  The Netherpool opened its jaws—literally this time.

  Serac lost her footing, not because the ice at her feet had split apart, but because it—along with her and Zacko—had separated completely from the rest of the surface. She felt her insides fall through and out of her belly—the telltale sensation of freefall. Strange, considering she’d been standing on solid ground just a Ksana ago, with nothing but water underneath. But not at all strange, considering she currently was freefalling—into the open gullet of a giant prawn.

  CHOMP!

  [2,523!]

  Solid into liquid into vapor into food.

  Ah, I get it now, Serac thought as she got reacquainted with the painful yet oddly peaceful feeling of Souldust-ification. At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a little silly about the wasted trouble she’d gone through earlier to ‘conserve her resources’. No wonder Renate gave us no chance. I mean, who in the Six Realms could survive that opener?

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