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Chapter 204: The Iskora Team

Viktor watched the six figures as they made their way through the first floor of his dungeon.

Leading the group was a large man, hair standing like a bed of nails above his head, thick sideburns framing the hard lines of his jaw. A burning blade in his hand, a pair of winged boots on his feet. He didn’t walk, but floated above the ground, slowly drifting forward.

Xander.

Viktor’s jaw tightened at the sight of that ugly slab of a face. He quickly swept his gaze past the bastard to the next person in the column—before his temper could get the better of him. That would not do. A man who let his hatred command the battle usually ended up commanding nothing at all. He needed to win first; everything else could wait.

Next came the four adventurers from Iskora, with Valeska being one of them, of course. Even taller than Xander, she walked with the unhurried confidence of someone who had never needed to rush into a fight, a large double-edged axe resting easily across her broad shoulder. Behind her was Rowan, another large and muscular man, his dark brown hair streaked with silver at the temples. He had a tower shield strapped to one arm while his free hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, as though daring anyone to make him draw it. Then came Drake, a man of lean and athletic build who carried a spear with the ease of long familiarity, his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail that swayed with each step he took. The last of them was Cynthia, an aeromancer with curly blonde hair and a pale complexion, who wore two large, heavy silver earrings that framed her pretty face. She gripped her ashword staff with both of her hands, a bit too tight for someone trying not to look nervous.

Yes, Viktor knew them, every one of them, long before their boots even touched the first step into his domain. After all, he got his information from both Isadora’s investigation and Celeste’s extraction of the endless gossip inside the main hall of Zubayr’s headquarters. Thus, their names, their talents, their past achievements had become so familiar he could easily recite everything from memory without a moment’s thought.

Valeska, whom he already knew before any of this began, was one of Zubayr’s lieutenants. In fact, she was now his top enforcer, after Dimitria’s demise several weeks ago. A warrior of extraordinary strength, who was far more cunning than what her appearance might suggest. The reports described her as a fighter who relied not only on brute force, but also on technique, patience, and strategic thinking. It was also said that she had once engaged a Cyclops in single combat and walked away the victor, a feat that few adventurers dared to boast of.

Rowan, according to the reports, had once been a soldier in the Arstenian army. The man was known above all for his great resilience. In one particular battle, his squad had blundered into a disastrous position, and they found themselves assaulted by overwhelming numbers. Most of his comrades ended up dead or close enough not to matter, but Rowan fought on, holding a choke point against countless enemies, and he held long enough for reinforcements to finally arrive. After that engagement, however, he left the army for some unknown reason and became an adventurer instead. Slowly, he climbed the ranks, until he earned the right to carry a plaque of gold.

Drake, on the other hand, didn’t have any background worth speaking of. He was an adventurer, that was more or less the entire biography. What people knew of him began and ended with his spear. It was said that he moved with such speed that his attacks became little more than a blur, strikes that arrived and withdrew much faster than his opponents’ eyes could possibly track. The man had no magic to aid him in this, and yet he remained extremely fast regardless. Come to think of it, Manfred—who could move in bursts of lightning speed thanks to his aeromancy—had only been a Silver, while this spearman, armed with nothing but flesh and steel, had already climbed to Gold.

Three Gold-ranked warriors, huh? A bit unusual for a party, since parties at this level tended to fill up with mages. Still, they should not be underestimated. These men and women were the ones who, without any magical assistance whatsoever, could stand toe to toe with the likes of Azran or Lahmia. They were, to put it simply, some of the very best that Iskora had to offer in this contest.

Viktor wondered if they had Reliquaries. The reports said no, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t have been given some just for the competition. Or Zubayr could have gone out of his way to equip them with Abyssal Armaments, the same kind of forbidden gifts that Dimitria had once carried before her death.

He next cast his glance toward the youngest member of the group, who was also their only spellcaster, the aeromancer named Cynthia. She was said to be some sort of prodigy, a young woman with a bright future ahead. Though only twenty-seven, she had already mastered the art of wind manipulation to such a degree that, in terms of raw magical power, she ranked second only to Zubayr among his forces. Very impressive, yes, until one remembered that her rapid rise to that position had been aided greatly by the fact that all of her betters had been killed by a certain dark spirit.

And, after her, after all four Iskora adventurers, walked the last member of the party. A “Bronze” who had just been added to the roster.

The Apostle.

The man wore a plain robe, and his hood was pulled low enough to conceal nearly every feature of his face, leaving only the barest suggestion of a jaw visible in the gloom. He had not spoken a single word ever since he first set foot in the dungeon. Instead, he walked in silence at the rear of the formation, several paces behind his nearest teammate.

But to be fair, it was not like the others talked much either. Xander said nothing beyond the occasional barked order tossed over his shoulder, while the remaining four only exchanged the odd murmur with whoever was closest and little else. Hardly a surprise, considering every single one of them either hated or feared Xander. Or both.

[They don’t seem to be in a rush.]

“It’s because they couldn’t care less about winning the competition,” Viktor said with a shrug.

Of course, that particular fact was known only to Xander and the Apostle, and not to the other four, who probably assumed their slow advance was simply a matter of caution. Besides, who among them wanted to argue with Xander? The bastard set the pace for the party, and everyone else fell into line without so much as a word of protest.

[It appears Cedric’s team is just as unhurried as well.]

“They’re still near the entrance?”

[Yes, Master.]

The Daelin team was sticking to the plan, then. They would stay back, keeping a good distance from the Iskora party, so that they would not find themselves caught in the chaos should the dark spirit decide to make an appearance and start introducing itself. Also, they were going to take the alternative route anyway, so there was no reason to try to overtake anyone.

Well, they did their thing, and he would do his. And now, at last, it was time to make the first move.

“Celeste, teleport me to the first floor. Marker Twenty-One.”

[Understood.]

Celeste could send him to any place within the dungeon, yes, but he still needed to provide her with the precise destination if he wanted to get to exactly where he intended. To that end, he had gone to the trouble of designating a whole series of specific spots scattered across the first floor, each with its own number, so that he could use them as points of coordination whenever the need for teleportation arose.

The world shifted around him in that disorienting way it always did, and when it passed, he found himself standing in a dimly lit corridor.

It was rare for him to venture out here in person like this, exposed in a way he generally preferred to avoid, since he had no desire to be spotted by any of the adventurers who were strolling across his domain. Still, there were not many people within the dungeon today beyond the two teams, and he had his minions nearby, ready to intercept anyone who managed to wander close enough, buying him enough time to teleport away before they could see him.

He closed his eyes, sending his vision forward to check on the Iskora team’s progress. They were three corridors away from his current position, still moving at that same unhurried pace, and they were just about to reach the spot where he had planted a trap.

He had set over fifty fire traps across this floor in the past week, each one made from two broken halves of a single fire gem. The powerstone was placed into the gap between two stone tiles on the floor, while its corresponding triggerstone was hidden within a nearby tunnel, allowing a goblin or gremlin to reach and use it to spark a burst of flame at the exact location of the trap.

Basically, it worked the same way as the fire bombs, only without any of the black powder that gave those bombs their destructive power. Because there was no explosion involved whenever the trap triggered, it would not destroy itself the moment it went off. Hence, he could reuse it indefinitely, and he could test it as many times as he liked to make sure nothing had gone wrong in the setup.

But of course, the absence of black powder came with an obvious cost. The trap had no real teeth in it, as some pitiful amount of flame would never be able to cause any real damage to the Gold-ranked adventurers, much less the likes of Xander or the Apostle.

And that was precisely why he needed to come here in person.

He activated “Transmute Marsh Vapor.”