A Devil In The Dungeon: Gone

[Gone]

Though Tanya had completed her mission, she made no move to gather her comrades and return to the surface. With Artus on death's door and her comrades out of sorts emotionally, it was best to stay put for a day or two. Even though she wasn't a member of their familia, the Loki Familia were more than amenable to allowing her to stay in her camp. Though they didn't intend to stay in Rivira longer than a day or so, they had more than enough supplies to spare for an extra body.

​Rann still refused to speak to her. Licia was out of sorts and spent nearly all of her time by Artus's side, which left Tanya alone for the majority of the day.

​That was why, in the early evening of their first day in Rivira, Tanya found herself pushing into the largest tent in the camp. It was mostly empty save for a rug, table and chairs, and a glowing lantern suspended from the center of the tent. At the far end was a familiar figure who smiled almost as soon as he saw her.

​“Tanya,” Finn graced her with a nod as she entered. He gestured to the chair beside him rather than the one on the other side of the table. “Please, join me.”

​Tanya slid into the chair beside him and quickly found a small cup slid in her direction. She raised a brow and lifted it, inhaling softly. It was tea. The leaves had been over-steeped and slightly scalded, but the aroma was pleasant enough that she felt no fear in taking a small sip. It was lukewarm, but not bad.

​“I appreciate you coming to see me,” Finn said as she took a larger drink. Tanya nodded, swallowing her mouthful and placing the cup back down.

​“It felt like a good idea, considering what happened to Artus.” Tanya glanced at him, meeting his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

​A small, sad smile appeared on his face. “I can't say I know him well, but I've seen him around enough to know that he doesn't deserve what he's going through.”

​Tanya felt a sting of guilt, looking into her cup. “He doesn't.”

​Artus was a good warrior, if a bit weak-willed compared to most, but he was not a soldier. That Tanya had been inadvertently responsible for the situation that may very well kill him did not sit well in her stomach. Not at all.

​“The Dungeon's a dangerous place, but it feels like I'm constantly reminded that there's no greater cruelty than what mankind's able to produce.” Finn sighed softly, lifting his cup to his lips. “Monsters are evil; there's no doubt about that, yet the worst atrocities are committed by the ones they oppose. Cruelty and evil aren't one and the same, it seems.”

​Tanya set her cup down, the ceramic clicking softly against the wooden table. “You're not wrong. But cruelty and evil aren't mutually exclusive, either. The one who orchestrated this attack happens to be both.”

​Finn's eyes flickered with interest. Slowly, he set his own cup down, saying, “You know who's responsible, then? I was hoping that was the case.”

​Tanya smiled thinly, “I assumed so. I don't think we're quite close enough to share a drink and talk about philosophy just for the hell of it.”

​“I'm sure you're a wonderful conversationalist,” Finn joked lightly. “But you're right. This isn't a social call. A member of the Loki Familia is at death's door and there's only a handful of people who know who might be responsible. As the Captain of this familia, it falls to me to set things right, and I hear that you've got personal stakes in this.”

​“As much as I wish that weren't the case,” Tanya muttered darkly. She took another sip of her tea, letting the warmth settle in her chest before putting it down a little. “I'm sure you've gathered by now that I don't exactly like talking about my past.”

​Finn nodded, peering at her intently. “I assumed it was rather eventful, considering what you're capable of. I've known humans your age to become adventurers, but I can't say I've heard of any taking to it quite as quickly as you.”

​“I'm no stranger to fighting for my life. Though the skills I've acquired certainly weren't by choice. If I had it my way, I would have chosen a very different career path,” Tanya sighed. “Unfortunately, I haven't had things work my way in quite a long time. Lifetimes, even.”

​“Oh?”

​Finn's curiosity was plain in his voice. Tanya felt no need to keep him in suspense any longer. She'd already spilled the beans, as it were. “What do you know about reincarnation?”

​Finn seemed a bit taken aback, as if that wasn't quite what he expected her to say. He took a moment to think. “It's a concept I'm familiar with. Are you implying...?”

​Tanya shook her head. “Not as you're thinking. I'm not predisposed to greatness via the soul of some ancient hero or king. I was an ordinary person—a salaryman, if that word means anything to you. My life was my work and though it was rather dull in comparison to where I find myself now, I enjoyed it. At least up until a disgruntled employee of mine decided homicide was the best way to cope with his impending termination.”

​Finn listened without interruption, his cup resting between both hands as Tanya recounted her tale for the second time today. His expression shifted at points as she went over her time in the Rhine and the countless battles after, but he didn't interrupt once. When Tanya finally fell silent, nursing her now-cold tea, the tent was quiet.

​“That's quite a story,” Finn said at last. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he stared at the table. “I've heard of gods doing all kinds of things both great and cruel, but I can't say I've heard of anything quite like that.”

​“I wish I could say the same,” Tanya muttered.

​Finn looked almost concerned, his eyes staring into his tea. “Chasing a mortal across lifetimes, across worlds even... It sounds almost fantastical. Gods are powerful, but I guess we were all ignorant to just how far that power stretched.”

​“He touted himself as omnipotent.” Tanya rolled her eyes at the notion, adding, “Though I doubt such a thing is even possible, much less by a pompous, narcissistic braggart like him. Even so, it's entirely possible he doesn't draw his power from the same source as the gods of this world. After all, he's not exactly from it.”

​“Yet it seems he still has to play by our rules,” Finn noted. “He gave his followers a Falna, as opposed to simply empowering them as he did with Mary Sue. If he could freely use his arcanum—or whatever his version of it might be—to mess with you, he probably would have. He seems obsessed with you.”

​An understatement if there ever was one.

​“I can only hope he continues to do so,” Tanya said flatly. “If he's playing by the rules for once, then at the very least, that's fewer surprises to deal with. I much prefer dealing with enemies that are operating on the same field as I am, rather than playing another game entirely.”

​Finn simply nodded. “As do I. Though his identity is another matter. It's a little unusual for a god to keep their name hidden from their followers, but not entirely unheard of. That will be a difficult problem to tackle.”

​“Perhaps,” Tanya conceded. She swirled the dregs of her tea, watching the leaves settle at the bottom of the cup. “But Mary has already generously offered to show me the way to their Familia's home. I'd say that's a rather potent lead.”

​Finn raised an eyebrow. “She offered that?”

​“In the process of begging for her life, yes. She was rather forthcoming.” Tanya smirked. “Whether she follows through on that offer remains to be seen, but I've found that people in her position tend to become remarkably cooperative when the alternative is less pleasant.”

​Finn studied her for a moment, and Tanya could see him thinking intently.

​“That's a solid lead,” he said at last. “But if it doesn't pan out, there's still another avenue we can pursue. Every Familia that enters the Dungeon is required to register with the Guild. If this god of yours has been sending people into the Dungeon, he's on file somewhere.”

​Tanya's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She hadn't considered that. The Guild kept meticulous records of every adventurer that graced its halls, and the Familia that they pledged loyalty to. Given the nature of the matter at hand, it wouldn't be difficult to subpoena that information. The Guild would have no choice but to comply with an official inquiry, especially one backed by one of the most powerful Familia in Orario.

​“I imagine the Guild would be rather forthcoming with that information, given the circumstances.”

​“I agree.” Finn nodded, a certain amount of grimness in his voice. “I'll need to speak with my Goddess. She'll want to hear this from me directly, and frankly, this is above my authority to handle alone.”

​At the very least, he was intending on doing something about it. She'd found an ally in that. Tanya leaned back in her chair, letting out a breath.

​“Should I expect a visit from Loki in the future?”

​“More than likely,” Finn smiled faintly. “Even if our Familia's involvement was pure circumstance, the fact that this happened at all is a cause for concern. This situation is not something any deity in Orario will take lightly.”

​Tanya snorted. “Right.”

​“I know you don't place much stock in the gods. And now I know why,” Finn said, his voice free of judgment. “But Loki's fair. She won't let something like this slide.”

​Tanya refrained from commenting, lifting her cup and draining the rest in one smooth motion. “We'll see. If that's all?”

​“Yes. Thank you again for talking with me, Tanya.”

​Tanya stood and offered Finn a curt nod before disappearing through the tent flap.

​The next morning, Tanya woke to hands on her shoulders. Instinct took hold before consciousness did. Her hand shot beneath her pillow, fingers closing around the hilt of her knife as she lurched upright in one fluid motion. The blade was half-drawn before her eyes focused on the figure crouching beside her cot.

​Rann stared back at her with an unflinchingly stoic expression despite the sharp blade inches from his face. His hands slowly left Tanya's shoulders and he stepped back, staring down at her with red-rimmed eyes. Tanya's waking mind recognized the expression he wore, a stony mask bereft of any semblance of feeling, disconnected entirely from the world out of sheer necessity.

​Even half-awake, she knew what was about to be said before the words ever left his lips.

​“Artus is dead.”

​Rann's voice was utterly flat, not a single hint of inflection in the uttered syllables. Tanya took in their meaning, lowered her knife, and nodded.

​Rann stared at her through the waking darkness, then turned and stepped out of the tiny tent without another word, leaving Tanya sitting there under her thin sheets, staring after him. Then, she stood, got dressed, and followed the boy out.

​As it turned out, Artus died in the night.

​The poison had worked its way through his system far too quickly, and though the doctor had done everything in his power to keep him stable, it simply wasn't enough. One hour, he seemed the same as ever, the next, he was gone. He left the world in his sleep, without a whisper or a tear.

​Tanya found herself hoping that in his final moments, the pain had left him.

​Currently, Tanya stood at the edge of the camp as the Loki Familia went about the grim business of preparing one of their own for transport. Artus's body was wrapped carefully in thick cloth and lifted onto a flat-bedded cart that had been set aside for this exact purpose. He had it all to himself.

​She watched from a distance as Licia stood away from the procession, draped against a wall with her face in her knees, tucked tightly into her body as she sobbed. Watched as Rann argued with a stone-faced man, trying to force Artus's spear upon him. The man wouldn't take it. Tanya suspected Artus had left it to him, or perhaps the boy simply had no next-of-kin and Rann, well, Rann was certainly closest to him.

​Boy. Right, because Artus had been just a boy. Perhaps a year or two older than Tanya herself. Normally, she'd think nothing of his age, but something about that stuck with her. She wasn't entirely sure why.

​She should say something. Offer her condolences or express regret for being the one to cause this. But she'd never been good at comforting the grieving. Any words she offered would be hollow at best and insulting at worst. So, she stayed where she was, watching from the edge of things, and said nothing.

​The day dragged on. Tanya found herself sitting against a crate some distance from the heart of the camp, staring at nothing in particular. The materials she'd purchased from Ciril sat in their cart a few feet away, neatly packed and waiting to be hauled back to the surface. The sensible part of her brain pointed out that she should be planning her return trip, but she told that part of her mind to shut up, just this once.

​The camp was becoming loud and she needed to think. Tanya stood and walked to the edge of camp, then further, into the forest surrounding Rivira.

​The walk helped calm her mind, if only slightly. Tanya moved through the trees without any real destination in mind, her boots crunching softly against the undergrowth. She stopped momentarily to watch a spider skitter across the bark of a tree, gazing at it with blank eyes.

​Why in the world was this affecting her so much? After everything she'd been through, death, war, and death again, one little life should have been nothing to her.

​She'd watched men under her command burn alive in the skies above the Rhine, rained fire upon rebels and civilians alike; innumerable lives had been ended under her orders and by her very own hands, and not a one of them had kept her up at night. That was simply how war worked. You washed the blood from your hands over and over until you began to realize it would always come back. There would always be another death, just over the horizon, waiting to soak your mitts again.

​But this was not war, was it? And Artus, for all his skill in battle, had not been a soldier. He'd been a comrade—a friend, even, helping her out of the goodness of his heart with no other motive weighing down his mind. And she had gotten him killed.

​No... not me.

​Anger pushed past the haze filling her mind, burning away the fog in her brain with cinder and gunpowder, until only one name remained. The one responsible for this, the one responsible for everything. Being X.

​Tanya's hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms hard enough to hurt.

​That bastard. That insufferable, self-righteous, petty bastard. He couldn't simply leave well enough alone, could he? He couldn't accept that one mortal refused to grovel at his feet and thank him for the privilege of suffering. No, he had to follow her across the boundary of death itself, drag her into a new world, and then proceed to torture her through proxy after proxy.

​Artus was dead because a being proclaiming himself as God couldn't abide a single dissenter. What lunacy.

​Tanya's jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached. She breathed in through her nose, held it, and let it out in a slow stream. Then she did it again and again, until the red edging her vision receded and she could think clearly again.

​Anger was a liability, but it could be a great tool when directed properly. She'd learned that lesson lifetimes ago, and it had served her well enough to survive what most couldn't. She would not waste it here, screaming at trees.

​Not when it could be better used thinking of ways to get to Being X so that she could carve a smile into his throat. She'd dreamed of a situation like that before, but never before had she been in a position to act on it.

​But he was here in Orario and so was she.

​Tanya exhaled slowly, letting the last vestiges of rage settle in her breast. The forest around her was still, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the canopy and the distant call of some bird she couldn't identify.

​She turned to begin making her way back toward camp when a voice called out from behind her.

​“Excuse me? Y-you're Tanya, right?”

​Tanya stopped mid-step and turned to find none other than Bell Cranel standing in the thicket, just a short distance away. He looked slightly disheveled, with scuffed armor and bandages wrapped tightly around his head, but was otherwise unharmed.

​He had snuck up on her. She'd been deeper in her thoughts than she'd realized.

​“Bell,” Tanya greeted, turning to face him fully. “What are you doing here?”

​Bell rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Ah, well... my party ran into some trouble on the way down. We never even meant to come down here, honestly. It just kind of happened.”

​Tanya let her eyes drift past him. “Is your party alright?”

​“Yeah! Thankfully, Miss Wallenstein and the others had potions on hand to help, so they'll be back up in a little bit!” Bell smiled cheerfully, completely oblivious to the way Tanya's expression twitched unpleasantly. “What about you? What are you doing down here?”

​“I was...” Tanya paused, weighing how much to share. “I was running an errand with some friends of mine when we got waylaid by some trouble of our own. Our situation is not too dissimilar to yours, I suppose.”

​Bell looked at her and for a moment, he looked eerily similar to the boy who'd just been lost. The delicate frown, combined with the light furrow of his normally wide eyes, reminded Tanya of Artus.

​It was there in a flash and gone just as quickly, leaving her frowning as he asked, “Trouble? Is everyone alright?”

​Tanya smiled, and it was not a kind thing.

​“No,” she said. “They're not. But thank you for your concern.”

​Bell opened his mouth, clearly wanting to press further, but Tanya turned and walked away, leaving him standing there with the question on the tip of his tongue.