Chapter 186 - The Show Begins

Finding the opera house was easy; all they had to do was move in the opposite direction of the fleeing crowd. They were there in five minutes. Guards stood watch across the street, preventing access for anyone that shouldn’t be there. Hump and the others didn’t even need to show their medallions to be allowed through.

While Natalie had told Hump that only bronze rankers were requested, looking around Hump saw more than a few iron rankers that had come too. They formed a perimeter, keeping away curious citizens and working with the guard. Outside the opera house, Hump was surprised to see Marcela’s party already there. They were supposed to meet her in the Daston training grounds this afternoon. She should have been in the Upper City. As the crowd shifted, however, he spotted Sir Ricard amongst them. Natalie must have used her portal ability to bring them here.

It was a wealthy district, the streets lined with tall, wide buildings built of the white stone Sheercliff was famous for. The Sheercliff Opera House itself towered over the street corner ahead, a giant box of a building. Every part of the exterior was designed with artistic flair. High walkways extended beyond the building and over the streets, supported by pillars, and with archways that led up to the many entryways. Above, large windows gave a view into the floors above, with those at the front staring into the back of statues—heroic figures posed with their weapon of choice. And on the roof, two knights adorned each corner, mounted on majestic griffons, their lances thrust upward toward the sky.

But in between all the finery, Hump couldn’t help but notice that nobody stared back from the windows. It should have been crowded, but from where he stood on the street, the building looked desolate. There were no ticket sellers outside, or crowds on the streets. It was empty, but for the hundred or so adventurers that had already arrived on the scene. An impressive force, yet they remained out here on the streets.

“Looks like we made it in time,” Bud said. “I don’t think the fighting’s started yet.”

Hump hummed his agreement. “I don’t think that bodes well.”

Bud turned to him. “What do you mean?”

Hump pointed to where a crowd had gathered. He spotted Marcela amongst them, Sir Ricard, and even Sir Roderick. “If they’ve not entered yet, something must be very wrong.”

Hump swallowed as they approached the group, a nervous pit welling in his stomach that he tried to suppress. It wasn’t his first-time meeting Sir Roderick, but in the past he’d simply been following orders. The man was a legend. The leader of the Sheercliff Pantheon, a sixth circle Chosen of Lady Light, and the destroyer of Fellgreen Dungeon. And now Hump would fight alongside him.

Lady Helen Astida’s squad had already been wiped out. Hump wondered if Randall’s party had been amongst them. Either way it made the thought no less terrifying. If even a silver ranker had been killed by these warlocks, this might be their most dangerous fight yet.

Marcela spotted them as they approached and waved them to join her. Hump noticed that Corvin’s party was missing, though he spotted Eve’s amongst the cluster of bronze rankers. He’d not seen her since their time in Stonebark Forest, and from the look of it she was in Sir Roderick’s squad today.

“…with no indication of numbers, I advise caution, my lord,” Ricard said. “I’ve walked into one of these traps already. Astida has already died. We cannot lose more.”

“No,” Roderick growled. “This has gone on long enough. It is time for these warlocks to understand who it is they are against. For them to experience the wrath of the gods. We’ve lost far too many good men and women. No more. Whatever trap they have prepared for us, I will break it, Ricard. I will break it.” He stepped closer to Ricard, the bald man standing even taller than him, his golden sceptre in hand glimmering like the light of the sun. “You forget, Ricard, you are not alone this time. You fight with me. I will not let these heretics escape.”

The plan was simple. Sir Roderick was to lead his strongest Chosen through the front and clear out the entry lobby before breaching the auditorium. In the meantime, Ricard was to lead his squads through the rear entrances and secure the walkways on the first floor before progressing into the main viewing level. Fenella, the least experienced of the silver rankers there, was to set up a perimeter around the building and ensure that nobody got in or out.

They moved into position. Many adventurers had yet to arrive, so Ricard’s force was a mishmash of five squads, totalling forty-odd adventurers. The rear of the opera house had smaller entrances. They approached under the cover of the walkway, peering in through the windows to see empty rooms inside.

“Are you sure about this, Ricard?” Marcela asked.

“Roderick didn’t get where he is now by being careful,” Ricard said. He tried the door but it was locked.

“Natalie, portal us through.”

She opened a portal onto the other side of the door and she, Ricard, and Jessica stepped through, unlocking the door from the inside for the rest of them.

They poured into the empty entry lobby at the back of the opera house.

Hump gazed up a marble staircase that connected the main entrance to the first floor. Stone sculptures of women overlooked them, and the walls were filled with large paintings of historical scenes and people. Humps fought not to marvel in the finery. The gilded ornaments everywhere, and gold lining along the curving rooftop, culminating in a grand chandelier that dangled from the roof four stories above. The building was giant, and a testament to some of the greatest earth wielders in Alveron’s history.

“Topher, stay down here on the ground with your squad,” Ricard said. “Secure the entrances and keep our escape clear. Don’t breach until you hear Roderick enter. Marcela, Agatha, your squads are with me. Natalie, move freely. See if you can find these bastards.”

Natalie smiled. “I’ll be in touch.”

She drew a circle on the ground with her foot and fell through, vanishing into the floor, her portal closing behind her.

Hump struggled to get his head around the magic. Teleportation like that was beyond any wizards he knew. It was a magic that only the Chosen of Vesta could achieve, and one that wizards had never been able to properly replicate.

Ricard led the way up the staircase. The landing on the first floor was divided into smaller hallways, each of them having smaller staircases of their own that would lead up to the top floors and the many private viewing booths of the theatre.

“No sign of a trap so far,” Celaine said.

“I’m not sensing any spells either,” Hump said. “Considering a silver ranker died here recently, that isn’t right. Something might be manipulating the essence in the building.”

“Is it anything you can latch onto and locate?” Ricard asked.

Hump shook his head. “No.”

“Then we stick with the plan. Marcela, take your squad along the west wing. Agatha, you’ll come with me to the seating area.”

Their footsteps echoed on the stone tiles of empty halls. It was eerily quiet. Such a large building was meant to host people; it felt very wrong being inside alone. The west wing opened into a large gallery hallway that overlooked the street. The left side of the room was taken up by a refreshment’s booth, and to the right by the windows, too-small tables with red velvet padded chairs lined the walls, and it was here Hump noticed the first sign that something might be wrong.

“Some of the chairs are toppled.”

“People must have left in a hurry,” Marcela said.

They reached the end of the gallery arriving at a large set of double doors. As they approached, Hump held out his hand to slow the others down.

“What is it?” Marcela asked.

Hump reached for the door with his left hand, sensing but not touching. There was definitely a flare of essence to it. The slightest touch of intent left behind in the door. He pressed his will against it, sensing essence beyond.

“A trap?” Celaine asked.

Hump shook his head, a frown forming on his face. “No. There’s nothing on the door, but I sense something strange in the room. Something dark.

“Whatever it is, we have Sir Roderick with us,” Len said. “We just need to do our job. He and Ricard will handle the rest.”

Hump nodded his agreement, though he still felt uneasy. Maybe it was just nerves, or maybe he was sensing a part of the dark magic that warlocks used. Magic capable of killing a fifth circle Chosen and a silver ranked adventurer.

They didn’t need to wait long.

Hump perked up the moment he felt something change. A power hummed through the building and a second later, an explosion sounded within the auditorium. Marcela led the way through, breaching the door and bursting into the audience stands on the first floor. Down below, Roderick stepped into the room, an aura of holy light enveloping him, coating him like armour. It filled the room with light, revealing the horror of it.

There were so many bodies. They lay collapsed on the ground, broken over seats, or piled on top of each other. Their skin was greyish, drained of colour, clinging to their bones as if their very essence had been drained from them.  Their hair was ash. The room reeked of decay. Rubble lay everywhere, the private booths along either side of the auditorium collapsed into heaps.

Across the stands to the left, Ricard and Topher’s squad appeared, stepping into the room with the same shock clear on their faces.

“Dear gods,” Bud muttered. “What happened here?”

Beside him, Emilia covered her nose with her sleeve. Dylan stepped forward, kneeling by the closest of the dead. A woman, though it was almost impossible to tell her age from what was left of the magic. He reached down and touched her hand.

“She’s cold,” Dylan said.

Gasps came from below and Hump walked a few paces forward to get a look over the guardrail between this floor and below. The adventurers were pointing up, and Hump followed their gaze. A halo of essence stones shone from the roof, filling the room with a comforting yellow light. From it, Helen Astida hung dead, suspended on a twisted spike of wood that spiked through her back and out the front of her chest. Like everyone else, she was drained of colour.

Footsteps hammered down below, and Hump’s gaze fell back on Sir Roderick, who strode into the room. His light radiated, washing over all of them, filling Hump with the Lady’s courage. And in his aura, Hump felt a seething anger.

He held his sceptre up, and golden mace head shone bright as the sun. Hump sensed a pulse of essence but it was too fast for him to see. Above, the twisted wood that held Lady Astida was cut. She didn’t fall, but rather floated downward, suspended on Roderick’s light, drifting like a feather from a tree.

Roderick caught her gently in his free arm and studied her face with sadness. In his arms, she looked tiny.

The pressure of Sir Roderick’s aura filled the room and Hump’s heart hammered. A holy, devastating power filled with righteous rage.

Another set of footsteps echoed through the auditorium, and Hump’s eyes drifted to the stage. A man appeared from behind the curtain. He walked to the centre of the stage, slow and steady, completely without fear, indifferent to Roderick’s presence. There was a body on the stage and the man stepped over it, careful to avoid the bloody puddle on the ground around it.

Roderick laid Lady Astida on the ground carefully and then stood upright once more. He turned to the man on the stage.

“Are you the one behind this?” his voice carried through the room, a barely contained snarl.

The man stared back with cold eyes. He wore a mixture of plate armour and dark robes, and wore a sword at his hip.

Few people in the kingdom could meet Sir Roderick’s angered gaze and not feel fear, and fewer still would risk his wrath.

“Yes.”

Sir Roderick hammered the base of his sceptre against the ground. Light pulsed from the mace head, a halo of yellow spreading throughout the room like a wave, a resonating chime filling the auditorium.

Roderick vanished from where he stood, appearing beside the man in an instant. He swung his sceptre at the man faster than Hump could follow.

The man half drew his sword from its sheath, catching the blow on the blade. The weapons clashed with a metallic boom. For a moment, they were locked, and then the man turned and drew his sword, slashing at Roderick’s weapon and blasting him back ten paces. Roderick landed on his feet and steadied himself, glaring at the man. Lady Light’s essence filled his eyes, making the irises shine gold.

Hump gawked. Roderick hadn’t even been able to force the man back with that blow. A blow that could have shattered buildings.

“Impossible,” Marcela whispered. “This… How could a warlock possess such strength?”

“Who are you?” Roderick asked.

The man sheathed his sword, his expression still unchanged. The same cold, hard eyes staring dead at Roderick. “My name is Anthony.”

“And what do you want?” Roderick asked.

“The same as everyone else in the world. Security. Comfort. Freedom.”

Ricard jumped down from their floor, landing close to Roderick. “You’ve come to the wrong place for that, Anthony. You may be powerful, but you cannot fight all of us.”

“I believe you,” the man said. “I know what power the so-called gods give you. I know your strength, and I know your arrogance.”

“Then why are you here?” Roderick snarled, frustration in his voice. “You knew we would come.”

“Indeed, I did.” He laughed. “As I said, I know your arrogance well. And it is that arrogance that will be your undoing. Today, you will come to understand exactly what you refer to as heresy. You will witness what is rightfully ours. What your gods have taken from us!”

“Not if we kill you here,” Roderick said.

“I am but a pawn amongst greater characters,” the man said. “A red herring. A puff of smoke—”

“A distraction,” Hump finished quietly.

“—and now my role is complete,” the man said.

“Shit,” Hump said, turning and rushing for the door behind them.

“What?” Celaine said.

“We were right about it being a trap.” He pulled the handle, only it wouldn’t budge. The essence he felt over it before had hardened, and a formation shone over it now. A powerful one at that. “We’re locked in.”

On the stage, Anthony stamped his foot against the ground. Essence filled the auditorium, filled with sickening power. The blood rose on the stage, suspended in the air like droplets of water after a splash. They hummed, reverberating with his power. It shone through them, radiating red light. And as it hummed, the blood in the room rose with it. A giant circle of blood around the room.

A formation activated beneath the warlock. It spread through the blood, filling the entire auditorium with its power, trapping them inside. The ground started to rumble, and Hump leaned against his staff for balance. The ground crashed and thundered. It sounded like an avalanche; as if a raging beast was tearing its path up from underground.

Something was coming. The ground cracked, crumbling away. The floor and seats bulged outward and then went flying. A horrific tree tore through the ground, growing upward, its fleshy branches swaying and expanding, its canopy full of leaves. It filled the centre of the auditorium, towering three stories tall. Faces swam on the trunk, screaming silently.

Dungeon essence exploded from the tree and spread thickly in the air. A red mist of chaotic power. Hump stared in shock as the dead woman nearby breathed deeply and rose to her feet. Around her, others did the same. Essence shone in their veins, in their eyes. Red, hungry power.

“Natalie can’t get to us,” Ricard said, his voice carrying from below. “The room is sealed.” His eyes widened. “She says there are more trees across the city.”

Panicked murmurs filled the room. Roderick looked at Ricard, disbelief in his eyes, then turned back to Anthony.

Finally, Anthony’s stoic expression broke. His lips curled back into a smile, sickly and sinister, his face contorted into something not quite human.

“Enjoy the show,” he said, turning and stepping from the stage, disappearing back behind the curtain.

“No!” Roderick roared, rushing after him. Something moved, and a reanimated Helen Astida appeared on the stage beside him, her sword carving down into his arm. Dungeon essence poured from the blow, cleaving through armour and biting skin.