Low-Fantasy Occultist

Tholm's image flickered like a candle in a draft, his ghostly form wavering under the dense, oppressive mana of the dungeon’s inner layer. He could only persist because of his enormous mana reserves, which allowed him to resist the resistance temporarily, but even that probably wouldn’t last long.

"Master, what is happening?” Raphael asked.

The Archmage seemed to sigh, though static fuzzed around his mouth. "The situation in Alluria has escalated. The temples have finally mobilized their full response to the attack."

Ah, Nick thought, his mind racing through the political implications. If the religious orders are moving in force, the balance of power in Alluria is gone. I almost forgot about it, with how chaotic everything is here, but I suppose the city has its own problems.

"All Archmages have been recalled to the Tower," Tholm continued, his image warping and reforming. "We are needed to ensure the city does not tear itself apart during the upcoming purge. I must leave immediately."

“What about House Hone?" Nick asked sharply. "If you leave, what stops them?"

Tholm’s projection turned its gaze toward Nick. "Archmage Hone has also been recalled. He cannot take action directly without losing his seat on the Council. However..." The image flickered violently, turning gray for a second. "...House Hone has other assets, and without my presence to check them, they will increase their presence in the dungeon. I have dispersed the army surrounding Long Reach to prevent a siege, but I cannot protect you inside. You must be careful in the coming days, before the Shadows get here.”

With one last pop, the simulacrum shattered into drifting motes of fading light, leaving them standing in the sulfur-scented wind of the western pass.

Silence stretched between them.

"Well," Monte said, breaking the quiet with a dry, humorless chuckle. "That complicates matters."

"Complicates?" Malik spat, slamming the butt of his spear into the ground. "It ruins us. If Tholm is gone, the Hones can just march a legion in here."

“The army was dispersed," Raphael corrected, though he didn’t seem very relieved. “But I expect to see elite squads bearing their standard soon enough, yes. They do not need to hide now.”

"We should go back," Tessa said. "If the Archmage says it’s dangerous, what chance do we have? We can be back in Long Reach by tomorrow if we move now."

"And then what?" Nick asked quietly.

He turned to look at the group. He didn't use any magic, but the sheer weight of his presence made them pause.

"We destroyed two curse anchors," Nick said. "We destabilized the magic of the dungeon. If we leave now, the mana we unleashed will start to pool in the remaining sites. House Hone will come in, patch up the leaks, and finish what they started. Or even worse, they might not make it, and we’ll have unleashed a magical disaster on the region.”

He looked at each of them in the eye. "If that happens, Long Reach will not be safe."

Raphael closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. When he opened them, the uncertainty was gone, replaced by the cold logic of a leader.

"Nick is right. We broke it, and we have to finish the job." He looked at the mercenaries. "The deal still stands, but we’ll need to move faster and take out the remaining anchors within a few days. That means camping out here."

"Fine," Ord grunted, sounding resigned. The others didn’t put up more resistance, which was as good as any agreement.

"Good," Raphael said. “Now let's move."

The air grew hotter as they pushed west, carrying the distinct rotten-egg stench of sulfur. Steam vents hissed from cracks in the ground, releasing plumes of yellow gas that drifted lazily through the stagnant air.

“Try not to breathe that stuff in," Nick warned, circulating a gentle wind cycle around the group. It wasn't a full spell, just a pressure difference to keep the toxic fumes away from their faces, but he couldn’t help them if they walked directly into a cloud.

As they moved forward, the terrain turned into a nightmare of volcanic rock and obsidian shards. Visibility dropped to less than a hundred feet as a low, clingy fog rose from the ground. It wasn't natural mist at all, being far too heavy and oily, and sticking to their clothes like sweat.

Hiss.

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the fog.

"Contact," Nick whispered, and the others tensed.

Shapes appeared from the mist, staying close to the ground and moving with a slithering, jerky gait.

They were about the size of ponies, with pink, fleshy scales that blended in the smoke. Their jaws dripped with a purple, oily substance that sizzled when it hit the rocks.

"Loose!" Tessa shouted, firing a volley of arrows at their eyes. The shafts hit the lead iguana’s side and shattered, not even scratching the pink scales as they absorbed the impact with a wet thud.

Damn, those things are sturdy.

The iguanas lunged forward, opening their mouths and spraying out jets of hot, pressurized oil.

"Shields!" Raphael yelled.

He twisted his hand, warping space before the formation. The oil streams struck the distortion and splashed harmlessly to the sides, burning into the stone with a furious hiss.

"Now!" Monte commanded, thrusting his rapier forward to unleash a beam of concentrated light.

The light hit a lizard, burning a black line across its back, but the creature barely slowed down.

Magic resistance, too. Naturally.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Cold or wind!" Nick shouted. "Hit them with thermal shock!"

He moved past the defensive line, swinging the Shard, not bothering with a subtle spell this time, as he needed to clear the field. “[Jet Stream].”

A cylinder of compressed air, firm and solid like a battering ram, burst from his staff, striking the lead iguana and flipping the heavy creature onto its back. The impact cracked the obsidian ground beneath, but it still wasn’t enough to pierce through.

"Now! While the belly is exposed!"

Yvonne lunged, her sword glowing with frost mana, showing that she was more resourceful than he’d given her credit for. She drove the steel down into the lizard's softer, pale underbelly, and soon violet blood sprayed up, freezing instantly in the magical cold.

The iguana thrashed once and died.