Four skeletons circled Viktor. They moved fast, each one tracing a different trajectory, all centered on the same point, namely, the very spot where he stood. The nearest was about fifteen paces away, close enough for him to hear the dry rattle of its joints, while the farthest remained at a good sixty, skirting the edge of his awareness as it sprinted in a broad arc.

  Let’s get them one by one, starting with the closest.

  He concentrated. Several cards manifested around him, hovering in the air like spectral plates of glass, each etched with a distinct symbol. He chose the one with the image of a sphere of water wrapped around an icy core.

  The cards dissolved as he held up his palm. Water swelled into a globe that hovered obligingly above it. He activated the bracelet on his wrist—Claire’s birthday gift, now infused with the power of Bjorn’s Reliquary—then hurled the sphere at the nearest skeleton.

  It slammed into the thing’s chest, bursting apart in a violent splash that drenched it from skull to shin. Almost instantly, the water froze solid, and ice raced across the exposed bones, sealing the skeletal frame in a crystalline prison. Then came the crack. The frozen shell shattered, and the undead went down with it, collapsing into a thoroughly non-threatening pile of fragments.

  Viktor was already turning toward the next target.

  Another globe formed above his hand, and then another, each conjured and thrown in rapid succession as he tracked the remaining skeletons through their circular paths. One by one, they met the same chilly fate. Soaked, frozen, then obliterated.

  Though with the last skeleton, the one furthest away, his throw was slightly off. The sphere of water struck its shoulder rather than the center of its chest, coating only part of its frame. The detonation that followed tore away half of its torso but left the rest standing, swaying, stubborn as ever. Clearly, his accuracy still needed work.

  “You have wrought marvelous deeds, Sovereign of the Dungeon,” Khenemhotep said, stepping forward after the last skeleton had been defeated. “I knew not that you were such a mighty wielder of the arcane.”

  Of course, the ancient priest was also here. He was the one who had provided the skeletons in the first place, after all, animating them specifically for this little test. And they were exactly the kind of practice tools Viktor needed. They could move in any way he wanted, mimicking the behavior of any enemy he could imagine, and best of all, there was no need to hold back. No matter how he broke them, Khenemhotep would simply put them back together afterward.

  Yes, today he intended to see the full result of his training. How well he could combine his water-based Thauma, crafted from the Sigils he had acquired from Orloth, with the power of the ice-creating Reliquary.

  He had been thinking about his approach for a while, mulling over several options.

  The first option was the exact same trick he had pulled on that bandit. He would first splash them with water, then encase them in ice with the Reliquary. Simple enough, but this method would require him to get close to his opponent, and that was something he preferred to avoid if he could help it.

  The second one was to create water with a basic Thauma crafted from a single Sigil of Making, before shaping it into an ice lance and throwing it at a distance, just as Bjorn had done. It was a two-cost Thauma, while he had fourteen Focus at his disposal now, and that meant he could do it up to seven times per day.

  The downside was hurling it like a javelin like that required strength and dexterity. Viktor couldn’t throw the projectile very far, and the accuracy declined sharply the further the target got. Watching Bjorn do it effortlessly had given him the impression that it was easy. Now, though, when he attempted it himself, he finally realized just how impressive the feat was. To throw lance after lance—far, fast, and true. The Reliquary had helped a bit, sure, but the rest was earned through blood and sweat.

  That was why he had opted for the third option. He crafted a Thauma from one Sigil of Making and one Sigil of Controlling, much like a spell Orloth had cast. Once the sphere was conjured, he turned a small core inside it into ice, while leaving the rest as water. With the Sigil of Controlling doing the heavy lifting, he could now throw the orb farther and with much better aim. Then, at the exact moment it splashed across the target, he expanded the ice from the core into the remaining water. In an instant, the target was encased in a perfect, glacial shell.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  It required some careful maneuvering, but after several days of practice, he had the technique down. Unlike throwing a javelin, which relied entirely on the muscles in his arm that might refuse to cooperate, this was a test of the mind, one he found far easier to overcome.

  Also, as he trained, he had discovered another refinement. It turned out that he could actually control the detonation. The explosion itself was unavoidable, but he could make it shatter cleanly, like what had just happened with the skeletons, instead of erupting violently as it normally would. This allowed him to reduce collateral damage if needed. Of course, if the situation demanded it, like when he faced a large group of enemies for example, then he would unleash the blast without any restraint.

  Viktor turned to Khenemhotep. “It’s just a little trick. My current power is nothing compared to yours.”

  He wasn’t being humble for the sake of politeness. A level-three Thaumaturgist was indeed not a match for an ancient mage like the undead priest.

  “You spoke with humility, Sovereign of the Dungeon. Yet behold, I also have reared warriors and mages of proven strength. Do you likewise wish to pit your skill against theirs?”

  The hulking tomb guards and skeletal mages, huh? They were well beyond what he could handle at his current level. Not to mention, the Thauma he had just used—“Iceheart Orb,” as he had decided to call it—cost three Focus per cast. Four throws were enough to leave him completely spent, and he had already reached that limit for the day. There was nothing more to test right now, whether he liked it or not.

  He had planned to push himself to Level 5 once Celeste reached Level 14. But then he remembered that, at Level 5 and again at Level 10, the Dungeon Core got to summon a new Guardian and unlock new Domains. So there was a good chance the same thing would happen at Level 15. If that were true, then getting her there first would be the smarter choice. His own advancement could wait.

  For the time being, he would focus on optimization. The Thauma he had created was good, but it could be better. After all, he was limited to only four attacks per day at the moment. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, though, as he wasn’t exactly fighting for his life on a regular basis, and once he reached a level high enough, he would never run out of Focus. But still, it never hurt to think about how to do more with less.

  “Not now,” he told Khenemhotep. “Anyway, I’m returning to the Core Room.”

  As the ancient priest inclined his head in a solemn farewell, Viktor called Celeste to teleport him back. In the blink of an eye, he was standing once more at the side of the Dungeon Core.

  [I have seen how you dealt with those skeletons. Excellent work, Master.]

  Viktor chuckled. “It’s still nothing compared to what I used to be at my prime. Besides, it's not like it can help me with my immediate problem.”

  [You mean Claire’s mission?]

  “What else? I need her to have it done already, one way or another. Either she manages to see Rennald, or she gives up. I want her to get back to her regular work at the Guild. I do not want her to stay home all day.”

  [Well, yes. It would make it harder for you to come here without being noticed.]

  “No, that part I can handle. What I can’t is to eat bacon three times a day.”

  [Oh. Claire is cooking all three meals now.]

  “Yes,” he said with a snort. “I told her she didn’t have to, but she insisted. Apparently, she feels bad about leaving all the cooking to me for so long, so now, when she has the chance to make up for it, she’s decided to take over the whole thing.”

  [She is a thoughtful and considerate young lady.]

  “Well, yes. If only she could cook anything else.”

  [Master, if you don’t like bacon that much, why didn’t you just say so? Tell her that you want to eat something new. Surely she wouldn’t mind learning to cook something different.]

  “I...”

  [Or perhaps it is not actually bacon that you dislike. It is merely a substitute for your irritation at something else entirely. You know full well that you could ask Claire to change meals, and she would happily do it, but that would only frustrate you even further.]

  Viktor didn’t reply. For a long moment, a heavy silence hung over the Core Room.

  [My apologies, Master. I have stepped out of line.]

  “Just... don’t mention this again,” Viktor murmured.

  [Understood.]

  Viktor exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. All of the erratic thoughts gradually subsided, and his heart became cold again.

  “Let’s go back to the problems we have at hand,” he said. Calmly.

  Yes, he shouldn’t let himself be distracted by this sentimental nonsense. The only things that mattered were to grow his dungeon and to reclaim his stolen power. Everything else was of no consequence.

  He must keep moving forward, because that was the only way to avoid looking back.

  He must keep his mind fixed on the objectives, because that was the only way to stop thinking about what he would rather not confront.

  “I’m going to help Claire reach Rennald,” Viktor said. “And I’ll bring Jeanne and Alycia into the plan as well. However, as I’ve said before, this won’t actually change anything. Even if Claire does manage to speak to him, everything she says will fall on deaf ears. But that’s fine. We could still make use of the situation. My true goal is to have Yvonne infiltrate the Overseer’s office and plant the ink drop. So the three women could serve as a distraction. While they cause a scene on the first floor and draw everyone’s attention, our little spy can slip up to the top. Orloth has done what I asked of him, right?”

  [Yes, Master.]

  “Good. Give me the location and description of Yvonne’s house. I’m going to send her my instructions.”