The hazy miasma hung unto them as if their bodies were a lifeline. Like being draped in a car’s dirty exhaust fumes, it felt like an extra layer of thick clothing. Climbing upwards, the putrid gas failed to penetrate the air bubbles that served as their helmets — a nifty bit of magic from Alis.

Narrower than expected, they marched single-file. Alis took the front, with a small ball of flame to join Al’s torchlight. Before entering the miasma, such light was unnecessary for Alis and Sivren, their eyes able to pierce through the dark. But the deeper they travelled the tunnels, the thicker the haze became, so obscuring that it was difficult to see more than two feet ahead. It had slowed their pace to a trudge.

Each step was taken carefully, the uneven stone ground making them wary. Pressed against the heavy wooden rucksack, Joel’s back was already drenched in sweat. Alis had warned him to avoid using too much air within the bubble, that there was a limited amount contained within, but he was already gasping for breath. 

The translucent screen, specifically his remaining amount of EXP, had been staring back at him for the last few minutes. 500 EXP sat waiting there, all of which he was tempted to simply dump into his Might stat so the rucksack would be easier on his shoulders. He was thankful to Al, who was ahead of him, for carrying his own weapons’ bag. It swung like a metronome over Al’s pauldron with a clinking rhythm, which Joel used to set his pace. 

The tunnels were already several hundreds of feet below Perellan prison and the tin mines underneath. Al had already explained how the expedition could potentially take days. Half of the gear that Joel was lugging around were bedrolls and heavy clothed tents, though he was unsure if they’d actually be able to camp out in the smog. 

“Watch your step, crevice on the right!” Alis yelled back, her bubble rippling as she spoke. It made her sound like she was speaking behind a pane of glass. 

Joel followed Al as the Freewalker leaned towards the left wall. Sure enough a gap on the right opened up, dropping into an endless pit. Arm out for balance, Joel carefully crossed, trying not to glance down.

Once clear, he checked over his shoulder for Sivren. The bookish half-elf was surprisingly nimble as he skipped over quickly, holding an amulet that illuminated a silvery light. Originally, Joel thought that Sivren taking the rear was a poor idea, but he’d been managing much better than assumed. 

Furthermore, the trio appeared to flip a switch once the job began. Outside of absolutely required communications, the group travelled in silence, trusting each other to keep up. In fact, staying close was mandatory, with how difficult it was becoming to see. The miasma was becoming so murky that Joel almost bumped into Al’s back. 

“Why are we stopping?” Sivren called out from behind him.

“There’s a drop here.” Alis’ light dimmed. “My flame goes down about twenty feet. We should be able to slide down. Be careful.”

Alis went first, followed by Al. Joel tossed the rucksack down before sliding after it. Even with his Deftness, he stumbled at the bottom of the decline, his foot catching on something he couldn’t spot. Meanwhile, Sivren landed on his feet, already there to help Joel up.

The lower cavern was a much wider space than the cramped tunnels they’d been hiking through. The hazy miasma still lingered, but it was less dense here as some of it escaped up the tunnel. At the minimum, it allowed them to see beyond the measly couple feet in front of themselves.

Mounds of dead bodies were scattered across the cavern floor. Some of them were rotting away in fleshy pustules, infected by the toxic fog. Another reason to be thankful for the air bubble.

Sivren was already muttering a small prayer as Alis sent her flame ball around the room, scanning the dark corners. Meanwhile, Al dropped to a knee, inspecting some of the closer corpses. 

“Looks like the prisoners that Lord Valgruv mentioned,” he said, putting his weapons’ bag down to turn over one body.

“Surprised they made it this far,” Joel said. His voice echoed back to him like he was talking with a fishbowl over his head. He waved away some of the purple-black haze. “This smog is vile.”

Sivren finished his prayer, unclasping his hands. “They wouldn’t have made it this far, considering how long we’ve been moving through the miasma, which might mean it’s spreading.” 

“That’s not the only issue,” Al said, dropping his torch and drawing his greatsword from his bag. “Not all of them were killed by the smog.” He kicked one of the bodies onto its back, half of its head missing. Even in its desiccated state, it was clearly a slice done with uncanny precision. “Eyes up!”

The trio immediately went back to back, facing away from Joel and keeping him at the center. It was just as they’d promised before entering the mines, they’d guard their porter. Sivren clasped his hands once more, a silver-white glow coalescing around them. Wand and weapon drawn, Alis and Al scanned the cavernous space intently.

They stood there, on guard, for what felt like an eternity. Joel strained to look over them, trying to see if he could spot anything. Nothing but dead bodies and suffocating, swirling gas. 

Swirling gas that was beginning to take the shape of a person; a gaseous man holding one of the dead prisoner’s battleaxe. 

“Uh, guys!” he yelled, pointing to the axe-wielding silhouette. 

Like the gust of a hurricane, the axe shot towards them, only to be matched by Al’s blade. After the chopping downward parry, the former knight rotated the long hilt of his greatsword into a counter-riposte against the vaporous being’s head. The strike passed through harmlessly like a knife trying to cut smoke. 

The creature simply charged past Al’s armored form, axe raised again. Al spun with a speed surprising for someone so heavily armored, his follow-up swing catching the gaseous monster upon the nape. The blow sailed through again, ignored. 

“Four damnations, physical attacks do nothing,” Al shouted out, chasing it. “Cover Joel!”

Darting straight at him, the shaped miasma was fast but not impossibly so. The arc of the axe was a horizontal slash, clumsy and obvious. So much slower than Boreth or Bhas. He leapt back to dodge the strike.

And then he remembered he had a whole rucksack on him as the extra weight dragged him down. He stumbled onto his back, the weight of the sack keeping him pinned like a turtle flipped on its shell. He raised his arms to block the incoming axe chop.

[WARNING: Prone (Status Effect). Tilt 1 afflicted.]

Shit, this was going to hurt. 

Shimmers of light burst as the axe scraped against a thin sheet of luminescence, only inches away from his arms. A gleaming shield wrapped around Joel, its light trailing from Sivren’s amulet, clasped within the half-elf’s hands. 

Before a second strike fell, Alis was next to the silhouette, pressing the point of her charred wand into her palm. As fire built around her free hand, she held it against the miasma’s form, unleashing a cone of ashy fire. A sizzling shriek echoed as the consuming flame overwhelmed the gaseous creature.

Once the battleaxe limply clanked against the ground, Al helped Joel to his feet, checking him over. 

“You whole?” The front of Al’s bubble rippled. 

Nothing hurt, so Joel gave a quick nod. For the first time, he was thankful for the toxic shroud; it obfuscated his flustered face. He patted at dust that he couldn’t even see before picking up his rucksack. Surely he wasn’t anywhere as clumsy as this.

“What the hell was that?” Wishing for a cutlass’ hilt or his quarterstaff, his hand grasped at air. This was nothing like he remembered from his playing days. As far as he recalled, the dungeon in Wardenhal had Bronzeback Beetles, not strange gas ghosts.  

“Not sure yet,” Alis said, unable to mask the edge in her voice. “Could be some unholy necromancy. Could be some wayward elementals. I’ve even read of dragons able to control their smog, blend it with their magic.”

“Let’s hope it’s not a dragon.” Sivren still kept his hands clasped around his amulet, though the silver light dimmed. 

“Eyes up!” Al’s voice drew their attention back as dozens of clinking weapons rose from the hands of their slain masters. As if morphing from the miasma itself, shadowy silhouettes emerged like drops of oil in water, each with a weapon in hand. The room suddenly felt very crowded. 

“Um, do I start blasting these ones too?” Wand pressed against her palm, Alis’ emerald eyes darted around.

“No, conserve your magic. They might keep appearing anyway.” Al pulled his weapons’ bag over his shoulder. With a kick, he sent his torch skittering across the cavern floor, to the mouth of a wide tunnel. “We push through. Siv, you and I defend. Alis, ash anything that gets past us. Joel, stick close to Alis. Don’t sprint, move together.”

They took careful steps together, Joel still standing at their center. The tide of floating weapons fell upon their approach. Every one of his reflexive instincts was coiled, ready to spring out of the way of another swipe.

A spear’s thrust, blocked by Sivren’s shield of light. A longsword slash, deflected by Al’s claymore. It was followed by another glancing parry to a mace, the clash of steel ringing. A kick from Al’s boot sent the mace flying as Sivren’s illuminated shield intercepted a shank from a dagger. 

Bright light briefly filled the room as Alis incinerated another incoming silhouette, studded mace in hand. She pulled closer to Joel, constantly alert for leaks in the defensive dance that Al and Sivren waltzed around them.

Despite all of the earlier tension, Joel nearly relaxed from witnessing their precise formation. No one got in anyone’s way and they covered for each other’s blind spots. If it wasn’t the wasp-like weapons raining down on them, the movement could have been described as mesmerizing. 

More than chemistry, it was a display of their shared years.

Step by step, they edged closer towards the tunnel, not a single strike slipping through. The forcefield of Al’s sword and Sivren’s holy shield escorted them safely enough that Alis was not pressed to cast more fire magic. 

“Get ready to run,” Al yelled as they approached the tunnel. Sweat pooled on his handsome brow. He swung hard, clattering another sword against the rock wall. “Siv, you have a miracle for us? I can hold them alone while you cast.”

Alis stepped forward. “I can help yo— ”

“Siv, the miracle,” Al said, waving her back.

“On it.” Sivren’s bright shield dissolved, returning back to his amulet. Eyes closed, he began whispering an invocation. 

Al became a display of martial prowess. His chainmail rattled against his breastplate as he sprang side to side, each turn of his blade swatting away the torrent of steel. Utilizing the durability of his armor, he used his bracer or pauldron to block whatever his sword failed to reach. The foggy silhouettes pressed him, but he refused to give ground. 

Yet his air bubble was beginning to shrink at a rapid pace.

Sivren’s sapphire eyes shot open, briefly brimming brighter than usual. Tendrils of light shot from him and connected to the rest of them. The trailing light disappeared into a warm, enveloping glow. 

The rucksack became easier on Joel’s shoulders and his footing steadied. Even his mind felt clearer, his vision sharper. The warmth from the light seemed to bear a bit of any and every possible burden that daunted him. 

“Run!” shouted Sivren at Al, who gave a final parry before joining their dash. 

Joel recognized it immediately from his previous game experience, from his scuffle with the hamsters. It was the [Grace] spell of the old Priest class during early access. He’d seen it now on the Cleric’s available spells. 

While not directly speeding them up, it allowed them to be less careful with their strides. Even Joel’s pounding heart seemed to slow to a balanced tempo, his stamina being stretched out. 

Useful. It felt better than he remembered. He’d have to ask Sivren about the intricacies of the spell.

“Control your breathing!” Alis’ voice was muffled by the bubble helmet but the urgency was clear. “I can’t reform the bubbles without some clean air.”

Easier said than done when trying to run away as quickly as possible. But the wisdom of her words became apparent as the bubbles were clearly shrinking as they moved. 

Each of Joel’s deep breaths had to be stretched. It was a frustrating feeling, sprinting faster but forced to breathe slower. 

“They’re gaining ground on us,” Al yelled from the rear. The storm of weapons behind him made his clanking armor sound like a whisper. “We need to hasten our step!”

Alis wasn’t having it. “No! We’ll lose air. We need to preserve as much until I can find a pocket of clean air.”

Even with Sivren’s magic aiding him, Joel felt his gasps for air getting deeper and louder. It made hearing the rest of their argument difficult. His stomach sank as he watched his bubble slowly compress. 

Better safe than sorry, he called up the [Status] screen to check his stats.

—

…

MIGHT: 252

DEFTNESS: 455

VITALITY: 503

FOCUS: 200

SPIRIT: 140

RESOLVE: 205

…

—

He could go faster with more Deftness or breathe efficiently with more Vitality. At least, that’s what he could decipher from his experiences upping those stats. His companions’ voices faded into the background as he scanned the numbers between breaths. 

Thankfully, he had the available EXP for both. For now, a dip to test the waters. 

[Ability Score Upgrades], [DEFTNESS +50], [VITALITY +50].

The increases’ effects weren’t as felt as whatever Sivren had done, but it let him breathe deeper and dulled the ache in his legs.

Sivren interrupted the other two’s argument. “I say we sprint. We need fresh air fast and I might be able to mitigate the poison momentarily. But it’ll give us a little more time.” 

They all looked at each other before nodding. Guess that was that.

“Don’t fall behind!” Alis yelled at Joel.

As they broke into a desperate sprint, the tunnel’s walls appeared to tighten around them. They dodged incoming stalagmites that popped out of the fog. Eventually the passageway narrowed so close that it forced them to run two aside, which only slowed them further. The miasma had thickened so much that Joel felt as if he was pushing through a snowstorm. 

Sweat dripping into his eyes, Joel badly wished to wipe it away. Unfortunately, Alis had warned them against puncturing the air bubble, as any rupture would let breathable air escape. 

The miasma was endless; it felt like climbing through a smoking chimney. Though they’d gained some distance, the sound of the chasing weapons still echoed after them. He tried to ignore the din and just concentrate on taking one step after another. Despite Sivren’s magic and his own stat increases, the rucksack was getting noticeably heavier as he ran.

He toppled into Alis, nearly bowling her over. Running into people was becoming exhausting.

“Why’d we stop?” Al turned, sword drawn and ready to parry the onslaught.

Looking up, Joel saw why. 

Barely visible, the passageway broke off in two separate tunnels, each packed with the dense, black-purple smog.