blueteamnovel 87. The Fairgrounds
87. The Fairgrounds
87. The Fairgrounds
The train came to an abrupt stop, throwing untethered possessions from one end of the compartment to the other. The stubborn few that refused to remain seated were flung with an immense force, knocking one old man out as blood dribbled from his forehead.
There were no screams or yelps of surprise. The sight was all too common aboard these trains where one was required to brace themselves at all times. The deceleration process was as sudden as the initial acceleration, to the point where whiplash-related injuries were to be expected.
Frost had to wonder if safety really was a priority of Caldera Industries. Then again, she didn’t think it was easy to control the speed of a free-falling train to begin with.
Her group of six not including Snap strode from compartment to compartment, their presence known to all as Frost offered her healing abilities to the injured along the way.
Their apparel combined with their near untouchable presence drew intrigue of the passengers. It was only them who moved through these carpeted lanes. A myriad of adventurers were aboard, but none, even those of the lower Gold Rank stood to leave.
And perhaps it was for the best.
Gold Ranks usually were those between level 60 to 80 and possessed Red Souls. The risk classification of Black Monsoon required those with at least Violet Souls, meaning one needed to be level 100 at the bare minimum, although levels did not directly indicate one’s proficiency to begin with.
Regular people could not even begin to dream of touching such a dungeon. And yet the fields beyond the windows of the train were filled with hundreds, perhaps thousands of people crowding a safe distance away from a massive, spiraling tent that was undoubtably the dungeon in question.
Eerie. Nav. Any idea why the dungeon looks like a giant circus tent?
“Unknown. But it belongs to the Animals. An Impuritas that parades sentient carcasses of animals.”
What the hell does that have to do with a circus?
“Circus animals maybe?”
That only marginally makes sense.
Frost reserved this question for the triplets, who towed behind as they finally reached the forwardmost compartment. But before she could ask anything, they came across the on-board healer.
She was dressed in the same navy-blue dress as Pina. The little woman scrambled to a lone, fallen old lady as many watched on with eager eyes. Their attention was split evenly between the kneeling healer who struggled to help a fallen old lady, and Frost’s group who silently moved towards a pair of metal and polished-wood doors which served as the exit.
Frost and Jury were always bound to gather eyes. But there was someone else with them who managed to steal their fair share of attention. As punishment for speaking so crudely over the intercom, Frost had forced Cer to wear an abbreviated version of her maid outfit.
And all it took was a single glance to see just how uncomfortable Cer was in a skirt. She squirmed and tugged on the hems to stretch the fabric out to cover just that extra millimeter of flesh. Although...
“Heh... Frost wore this, huh. Maybe it’s not all that bad. It smells just like her. Cinnamon.” Cer occasionally spoke similar phrases to convince herself of this, and strangely enough, Ber stared on with uncharacteristic envy.
“Why do you get to wear a skirt? Can we trade?” Ber uttered beneath her breath.
“Shh. Don’t make a scene.” Res hissed, right as Frost briefly checked the healer’s status.
She was only level 25 and severely lacked healing prowess judging from the high number of injectable Serums by her waist. Furthermore, the healer and the old woman’s positioning made it impossible to progress forward.
And so, Frost offered her hand.
“Hello, miss healer.” She slowly began, causing the short, small woman to flinch at the sound of her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, let me help you out. [Greater Healing].”
She used her skills accordingly and healed the old lady before the little healer even had a chance to savor the magnificent gold and pale particles that left Frost’s body.
It was a marvelous display of her power, and while it was not much in her own eyes, the healing power she wielded was second to none. She offered a hand to old woman and gently sat her aside, garnering a delightful gesture of thanks.
“O-Oh! Greater Healing!?” The little healer bounced up and down suddenly, her bundled hair jiggling as if she were a slime in human form.
Why are all healers so cute?
“It’s my specialty. By the way I’ve healed all the others in the back so there’s no point in doing due diligence. But you’ll do it anyway, won’t you?” Frost smiled at her, speaking in her refined voice.
“You know it! I have to check either way! But Greater Healing... you’re a Perched aren’t you!? Of course they were going to need one of the best healers on site!”
“Huh? No, no I’m not a Perched.”
“They’re the second highest renown a healer can get.” Cer was on top of Frost’s curiosity.
The triplets were like a second Nav, and by now they inherently knew when Frost need clarification. Except Cer was lightyears ahead of sensing this compared to her sisters for... well, obvious reasons.
“You don’t see them often since they’re usually stuck inside of Inflow Direct’s Nest. Or Cradle? Whatever they want to call it. There, can I get out of this now?” Cer tugged at her dress’ collar.
“You’re wearing that into battle. Enjoy its DEF stats until we’re done.” Jury sharply retorted. “Be a good battle maid for us.”
“So heartless.” Cer sulked.
“Anyway, we should be on our way. Remember the Black Dove.” Frost swiftly parted with this healer, giving her a small wave before she passed through. “Farewell.”
“You’re the Black Incandescent Color? Nah, I’m wrong. We healers aren’t that strong. But I’m proud to see a healer go straight into a dangerous dungeon!” The healer instantly shook off any motion of Frost being anything other than a healer. “Good luck to you all!”
Yeah, I need a good amount of renown before people start recognizing me, huh. That’s why Carpalis’ deal is important for our future endeavors.
“The nuclear option is to storm the front doors of the Ateliers.”
Well, that’s if all else fails. But I’m not that stupid to spark a war between the Ateliers.
The man threw his hands all over the place, expressing his irritation overtly before he pointed to the dozen standing by the entrance.
“But alas, everything’s fallen behind ever since those crystals shattered. Hell, even the trains are getting crazier by the day. Then you have exploding coins? Fuck me... I was somehow the only available person to assess ranks and whatnot. Kind of bullshit if you ask me.”
He paused to let loose a long sigh before adding:
“Those people there. They’re part of your team. Picked by yours truly. A dungeon of that size needs a large group. More so now that it’s become a rescue mission. But – you’re the strike team. Those Golden Index folks will take care of the rescuing. They said you’re perfectly capable of destroying the heart.”
“I see. So you’re saying that it’s likely that there’s survivors in there?” Frost was skeptical of this, considering the Crimson Hunger took no survivors at all.
“There are fates worse than death. Getting caught by an Animal ranks right up there, right beside becoming a Gear. I envy you for even asking that. Must be nice being strong enough to never notice the woes of the little fellas.” He half-scowled, although Frost knew where he was coming from and smiled.
“I know that all too well, I’m afraid. And I need to ask you something as well. About those people behind you. Why are there low soul rankers amongst them? This is a Black Monsoon dungeon, no? Do you plan to handicap us?” This ticked Frost off more than she was willing to admit.
And as harsh as it was to say it out loud – they would be a major detriment in every feasible way imaginable. At no point could Frost see any benefit of bringing the weak to stroll along into a dungeon of this supposed caliber, and it infuriated her more that they were willing to throw themselves into the fray.
But it was not like she couldn’t understand why they wished to in the first place.
“... I want to help. Our – our little brother’s in there! Do you know what it’s like to lose someone to them!? How helpless we feel just standing around while everyone’s parading like this is some carnival!?” A young woman dressed in full leather armor lashed out at Frost, approaching her where she stood defiantly under her immense scrutiny.
She wavered. Her eyes dilated after seconds of bathing under Frost’s presence and her eyes squandered away. But the drive never left. Her rage was still ever present. Frost had seen that reaction countless times in the past and understood the notion of being incapable of helping, no matter how hard one wished to be useful.
“I understand that you wish to help. I understand that you’re frustrated of your weakness. But you need to understand that you will endanger other lives in the process. Have some faith in us. I’m a healer. Your brother will be in good hands. What’s his name?” Frost slowly spoke, her voice becoming mellow with each rolling word.
“... Dan.” The level 15 woman painfully uttered.
“Dan, hmm? Leave it to us then. There are two capable teams now, and as the strike team we’ll make quick work of it. Please, just stay here for me.” Frost softly spoke to her, calming her down.
“A... Ah... fine... Please, bring him back to us.”
“Leave it to me.”
Snap.
A small polaroid fell into the palms of the woman from seemingly nowhere, gently cascading down like a little snowflake.
“And the rest of you! Are you coming with us or not?” Frost then roared at the others, silencing all within the immediate vicinity.
Only the soft, mellow tune of the circus played alongside a lone person yelling something about fortune reading.
And Ber, being as curious as she was, briefly wandered off to investigate.
“... Black Dove. To have black in your recognized title means you’re either a Radiant Rank, or an actual Color. Shit... Aren’t we lucky, guys?” One of the adventurers wearing a pale robe and carrying a long, metal rod whispered enthusiastically. “If these people recognize that name, then it’s likely official.”
“Too lucky... and wait, wait wait wait – what in Elysia is that!?” A burly man exclaimed, pointing at something in Frost’s direction.
“She’s the party leader. Who else? Don’t talk back or say goodbye to all your heals.” Cer warned, reveling in a minor power trip as she slapped Frost’s back. “Heh. They’re all ours now. Fodder. Food for the grinder, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah. You.” Frost said, attaching Cer’s arm to her body with a piece of metal string. “You’re going to be my meat shield.”
“Huh!? ... No, wait, why am I so happy to hear that?” Cer wryly grinned as Res rolled her eyes in embarrassment.
“Where’d you run off to, Ber?” Res sighed.
“I had my fortune told. They said I’d be fighting against an ape.” Ber shrugged. “They probably meant sis. Or you –? O-Ouch! Res!?”
“Wait – Hold on – no, that!?” A woman shouted, directly pointing a giant caravan-sized spider that happily rocked right by Frost’s side, scooping up the angered Ignis onto its back. “Who... who’s tame is that!?”
“A friend of mine. Wanna pet it? It’s cute, isn’t it?” Frost said, and although it appeared cute to her, it was a total nightmare for everyone present.
And to those that did not fear it, they reveled in its magnificent coat of golden fur.
Snap was quite popular now that Frost realized it, and the spider in question knew it all too well, hence why it spent most of the time hiding from plain sight. Frost, Jury and Ignis patted Snap down as their group of a dozen adventures staggered forward, unable to comprehend who exactly these people were.
“Ready up. Please do not lag behind or head off on your own. I don’t need to remind you all of the dangers that lurk within.” Frost commanded, her words acting as a leash to tether them to every spoken order of hers.
They were capable, but not the strongest either and if it were truly up to her, then she’d rather they storm the dungeon on their own.
But Frost was civil and spoke their common language. This was a dungeon, where profits and renown were to be seized, and unfortunately, she could not talk these people down like the young woman, for they were motivated by greed.
And so, the group of nearly 20 passed through the guarded entrance and stepped into the empty Fairgrounds of the dungeon. In that very same moment, the carnival tune turned into a messy choir of bloodcurdling cries.
//////// < WARNING > ////////
< MONSOON >
< THE ARBITER’S TRUMPET INSPIRES >