"You're right; I don't understand what's so special about them," Symon thought back as he stared at the swirling wall of mist in front of him. Looking behind him, he saw all of his allies. They each gave him an encouraging nod, Atabek throwing in an extra thumbs-up. "The mana makes the plants and other materials more valuable, I get that, but why is it so important? Surely it's not just for the gold we could get by selling it."
"Yes, yes, but what is the reward? What is it that makes you think me charging in there alone and potentially getting us both killed is worth it?"
Symon sighed, watching as his breath shifted the mist right in front of his face slightly. "So I'm doing this... for some vague promise of rewards?"
Symon pinched the bridge of his nose. His watching friends would just think he was psyching himself up to enter the mist, but truthfully he was wondering how he'd gotten himself into this situation. "So, you don't actually know what's special about them?"
"And you're sure this is worth it?" Symon cut in seriously. He was giving Keelgrave a hard time — everyone's reactions to the dungeon told him they were a powerful resource — but he was also a little worried about being eaten by monsters for nothing. That wasn't exactly a fresh concern, though. And it would always be a concern for as long as he was easy prey.
Before he could get an answer, Symon adjusted the cloth covering his lower face and stepped into the mists. The cloud of dust or ash or whatever the hell it was once more brushed against him, warming his skin but leaving him unharmed.
Symon nodded wordlessly and continued deeper in. He tried to listen out for any danger — his visibility was next to nothing after going only a few metres in — but the gentle whistling and rustling of the mist obscured any potential ambushers.
He had his sword out and a full vessel, so there wasn't much else he could do beyond continuing his cautious approach. Keelgrave's ability to sense living things would just have to be enough.
With his eyes squinted against the mists, Symon trudged on. He breathed through gritted teeth, doing his best to keep his mouth free of the substance, but some still made it through. It was uncomfortable, and oddly tingly, but still didn't cause any actual damage.
Why doesn't this stuff hurt me? My Constitution is lower than everyone else's, so it can't be that. Vitality isn't being consumed, so it's not even hurting me. That means it's not just Pain Resistance letting me ignore it, it's another resistance blocking it entirely.
"It must be some type of poison dust," he realised, sending the thought to Keelgrave. "Any ideas what it is?"
Symon shrugged, refocusing on his surroundings. He could try and figure it out once he was somewhere safe. The fog hadn't given him any indication it was actually dangerous to him, but it was still very eerie. Already, he could feel the solitude pressing in on him.
Even though he'd only been with them for around a week, he'd grown used to always being with the Dumosans. Without someone to watch his back, he couldn't help but feel that something more sinister was watching him. The knowledge that Keelgrave was here with him helped a little, but a bit of advice and some life detecting couldn't compare to a six and a half foot tall man with a massive axe ready to split any monsters he found in two.
Symon did his best to relax while still remaining vigilant. Keelgrave had needed to teach him that while being jumpy and tense might mean you could react to a threat faster, it usually meant you would react worse.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast, he repeated to himself as he went further and further into the mist. Occasionally, he'd spot one of the flowers that Safiya had mentioned seeing with her enhanced vision. He was no botanist, but he still recognised what could only have been a rose. True to her word, it was completely black, thorns and all. He supposed it was pretty, but after a gentle nudge with his boot revealed no reaction from the plant, he ignored it. His draining would eventually kill it once it finished with the remaining patches of grass, but he wasn't going to sit around long enough for that to happen.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It was difficult to judge the exact distance, but before too long the visibility began to improve. Where before he could only barely see his outstretched hand, this distance quickly increased. The mist was thinning.
Eventually, he broke free of the mist entirely, though small wisps and tendrils caressed him as if trying to keep him. There was no force behind it, no more than a gentle breath of air.
The view ahead of him reminded him of the eye of a tornado — or at least the way they were depicted in movies, as he was pretty sure real storms didn't work that way.
An opaque ring of black mist surrounded the manor and its grounds, which Symon could now see for the first time. The air was still slightly hazy, but not enough to block his vision of the opposite side.
The building was large, made of the same dark stone as most of the houses in Brackstead. Only, the walls here were made of neat and symmetrical bricks instead of the haphazardly cobbled-together walls he was used to. It was two stories tall, but one end had mostly collapsed while another had a squat tower connected to it, reaching up an extra floor. Like everything else, it was made of the same depressing grey stone.
A few single-room buildings were scattered around the grounds — he presumed they were storage or for the servants to live in — which was itself cordoned off by a low stone wall. It was only around waist height, and was coated in a thick mat of black roses and their roots. He knew this place had fallen decades ago, but it was in surprisingly good condition, barring the collapsed room in the manor itself.
Thick-walled stone structures could last a while, as evidenced by the ruined tower he'd met Keelgrave in, but it was more than that. While the roses coated almost every free space they could, there were exceptions.
The numerous pathways linking the building were free of any obstruction, without a single creeping root trying to invade them. Even the walkway near the collapsed side was clear, although the room itself was still filled with rubble.
While the fog had cleared up significantly, it still made it difficult to see the details of the manor. From one side to the other, the clearer 'eye of the storm' area was less than a hundred metres, with the manor being on the opposite end to Symon.
He brushed as much of the dust off as he could while he observed the grounds, but nothing happened even after several minutes of waiting. The only movement was the gently swaying roses and the surrounding wall of dark mist.
"Well, nothing to it but to do it," Symon muttered.
Symon paused outside the gate, which was just a single solid wooden slab on a hinge. "I... yeah, I will."
Experimentally, he pushed on it. It didn't budge at all; the hinges were rusted beyond use. Instead, he simply clambered over the waist-high wall, coming to rest inside the estate's bounds. He half expected something to happen immediately, but the same eerie quietude continued.
He felt as Seize's thread automatically slithered outwards and latched onto one of the nearby roses. To his surprise, the tiny flower gave him an incredible amount of vitality. By his best guess, it would take four or so of the flowers to equal one unit of vitality. That didn't sound impressive, but considering the number of roses must have ranged into the thousands, it would be a valuable windfall.
"You feel it too, right? There's so much life in the plants. Even if this is the only thing of value we find, it'll be amazing." The sheer abundance of vitality could mean a dramatic increase in the capacity of his vessel, but there were other possibilities too. Symon hadn't wanted to experiment with his vitality too much — what if he used it all right before someone was critically wounded? — but this field was essentially a massive battery of vitality, ready for him to drain as needed. He'd finally be able to use his healing for some truly intense training without worrying he'd be shooting himself in the foot.
In a testament to its strength, it took several long seconds for the flower he was draining to begin to droop, and the same amount of time again before it collapsed completely. After that the thread moved on to the next flower, having stolen every drop of life from the first.
Symon began considering where he would start in his investigations, but the decision was made for him. The door to one of the outbuildings — just a squat, single room shed — flew open, and a hulking figure squeezed through the doorway.
It was at least six feet tall, even after the severely stooped posture was taken into account. It was bipedal, but hunched over so badly it could almost have walked on all fours. A shirt, ragged shorts, and a mud caked apron contrasted with dull, lifeless green scaled skin. Despite the clothing hinting at a civilised nature, its long crocodilian snout displayed rows of uneven and overlapping teeth in a vicious snarl. The mist and distance made it impossible for him to pick out any finer details.
"Ah, shit," Symon whispered. The creature — or man? — drew itself further upright as soon as it cleared the low doorframe. Immediately, it turned to face Symon, it's gaze lowering to the slowly dying roses at Symon's feet. The other being stood at the opposite side of the grounds, but it was easy for Symon to see its head turn due to its overly large snout.
Symon took a half step backwards. The thick claws and powerful musculature marked it as a dangerous opponent, so direct combat wasn't going to be his Plan A. He could probably run away. His friends weren't too far away, and as long as he could lure it out of the mists they'd be able to kill it.
But he didn't want to. He wasn't planning on being a lone wolf his whole life, but he couldn't grow reliant on others, either. He'd handle this thing using his own strength and powers. He'd prove to himself that he wasn't the weak and confused young man who woke up drowning in sand.
The crocodile man let out a low rumble, the sound like two boulders rubbing against each other. "Intruder..." it moaned in Common, the tone angry.
The clothes had hinted that it wasn't some mindless beast, but hearing something with such a monstrous appearance speak still surprised him. It certainly didn't look friendly, but he wasn't going to initiate a fight to the death with a sapient being for no reason.
"I'm not leaving," Symon said firmly, "but we don't need to fight. How about we help each other out? Maybe you need some healing?"
It let out another rumble, this one continuing on for several seconds. It took Symon a while to realise it was laughing.
"No leaving... you stay... fertilise garden..." it snarled, dropping down onto all fours.
"Shit," Symon said one final time. Then, the battle was on.