Knives & Levels - Chapter 94

Their arrival back to the city was marked with little fanfare. Colt and his team minimized their time moving through Nashville's dark, foggy night. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a peaceful trip.

Colt was well aware that just because they had slain some of the phantoms didn't mean that the town was free from phantoms entirely.

That was the crux of the issue. 

Colt was sure he saw the vague outlines of ghostly shapes prowling through the night a couple of times. Whenever he encountered them, he suppressed his Soul as much as he could, driving it deep down and stopping his Edicts from swelling in response.

Then, as a team, they moved quickly and swiftly away.

There was always the off chance they were a simple slayable monster, and so far, nothing that they’d encountered from the Vanderbilt's dungeon was powerful enough to be a real danger to him unless it was in a quantity that he couldn't predict. But… The reality was it wasn’t worth the risk.

Now that they had information about what was causing the problem for New Nashville, the most responsible thing was to return to the city and report what they had as efficiently, quickly, and safely as possible.

So, with him, Leon, and Julia, they sped through the rest of the dark underbrush, passing deserted buildings and the thick vegetation that had now claimed the city. Avoiding even the suggestion of a monster in the night.

Thankfully, between Colt’s superior dexterity and the presence of their scout, in about three hours, they eventually found their way back to seeing the giant stadium in the background. Its lights gleaming and blazing in the night sky, lighting up the place like a beacon of humanity, in an otherwise dark and shadowy landscape that now claimed their previous city.

Colt let out a sigh, one of contentment and happiness in that they had survived their mission and even excelled in a way that he didn't think possible beforehand. Thanks to their actions, they now knew where the next danger lay.

What to do with that danger and how to tackle it, knowing that the threat was far above what anyone predicted, was another thing entirely.

Still, regardless, he pulled himself together and clasped Leon on the back as they approached the gate. He hailed one of the guards who was keeping an eye out for any attacking monsters or phantoms.

With a brief greeting and a supportive cheer from the man who had seen their safe return, Colt and the rest of his group found their way back inside the city.

It being this late, he couldn't simply call a meeting with his friends, although he gave Leon instructions to tell the rest of the scouts to withdraw their daily exclusions now that they knew what they were dealing with.

It was then up to him and Julia to meet with Nate the next day and discuss how they planned to go about this. As the de facto team that would accomplish this mission, and with Nate's position helping the council and mayor with their new election, it was inevitable that the actual work of clearing this dungeon lay in them.

Colt wouldn't have it any other way.

Bidding Julia goodnight, he went back to his apartment, lay his head down, and got some rest.

The night passed quickly, and his dreams were filled with an image of a wrestling black-and-white beast; they spun around one another, vicious in their attacks and condemning the other. Locked together in a battle to the death.

As he watched them circle and tear into one another, the thought of what a waste of energy and life spiraled through his sleeping mind…

Two forces that, if only they worked together, could form a stronger, greater whole. Yet divided as they were, they tore. Sheets of light and pain erupted outward as they snapped and bit one another; Colt screamed, trying to get them to stop, to talk.

Knowing that if only they listened, they could see their similarities.

Yet they ignored him, erupting in a cyclic war of blood and destruction that left the dreamscape in ashes, ripping apart the fabric of the world itself as they clashed. 

Abruptly, the dream was torn away as the sun broke through the nearby window. Its warming embrace heated his face and stole the rest of the troubled sleep from his mind. Colt groaned in his sheets; the soft fabric shuffling and tempting him to close his eyes again. Better to forget that it was day at all, and instead, remain in bed.

“Damn,” he groaned, throwing his pillow on the floor to defeat the temptation of burrowing his head under it. The dream had been odd; it felt like his Edicts. But, as the daylight crept in, he tried to tuck it away.

There was too much to deal with today to get bogged down with weird dreams.

No, today was it. The memories of last night filtered through his mind. The mimics, the scouting, and finding the dungeon…

The dungeon that loomed in the mist with its grand towers, and the greatest threat they’d encountered yet.

“At least we did well,” Colt said, as he forced himself out of bed, standing up. Some more mist leaked through his open window, the cold fog hitting his skin. Goosebumps raised on his flesh as it settled and woke him up the rest of the way. The troubled sleep left his eyes still heavy.

By finding the dungeon yesterday, they’d possibly saved the lives of scouts in the expedition. Every time someone went out now, it was a risk. And the longer it would have taken to find the dungeon, the greater that risk would become.

Though the findings were new, it had become theorized that when a dungeon started to ‘leak’ out monsters, it would keep doing so, maybe even at a growing rate.

With tired eyes, Colt did the first thing that came naturally. He went to his favorite coffee place, had a warm cup of coffee in an earthen mug, and, after downing that in a couple of minutes, went to take care of business.

Bringing himself to the White House, and its decreasing staff.

The streets on the way were filled to the brim with people, but the interior was emptier now, with the signs of half-abandoned construction and movement. They had begun to strip the walls and re-purpose the building, and renovations now dominated the interior, leaving a rather annoyed-looking secretary at the front desk when Colt arrived.

What had been Denny's throne and seat of power in the city was rapidly becoming something else. Less of an administrative building with a sign that it ruled above everyone else who was in Nashville, and more now a functional community center that was moving and figuring out what it would be with the new election.

The new council in charge of the city had moved much of its work to the stadium's offices; considering that they were set up for such work, it made sense.

That, and they wanted to distance themselves from the image of Denny.

Colt didn't know how or when the final changes to this place would occur or even end up being.

Nor did he know much other than the vague plans and laws that Nate and the rest of the appointed representatives had already agreed upon. The resulting documents they’d agreed on were going out to the people for them to submit feedback. In the end, their voices would be heard with whoever they decided to elect as their first mayor.

As Colt sipped his coffee and talked to the secretary at the desk, he found out that his Nate, who he had expected to be located at the White House, wasn’t exactly there.

This surprised him. The guy knew what they had discovered since now he and Julia shared an apartment to watch over Nick.

She was sure to have given him that info last night, which is partly why he’d decided the best course of action was just to head back to his own house and get some rest.

But, Nate wasn’t in the office, the place where his friend took meetings and conducted regulatory affairs.

Today, Nate was down below.

Down in the maze that Denny had previously called his. Colt shivered. It wasn't fear that he felt when he thought about going down into those depths, but rather a sort of reviled lingering memory. When he went down below, he felt Denny’s ghost. The wisps of the memory of who the man was and what he had done to these people always left something sitting not quite right in Colt's stomach.

He despised the man more than anything. He hated what he had done and how the people had suffered under his heel.

It was always difficult to return to the domain that the man had made and carved out for himself, hidden beneath this city.

Though he wasn’t afraid, he had no desire to tread through the home and dreams of an awful, dead man. One whom he’d been the one to put to execution. That, too, wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory.

But nonetheless, if Nate was down there, presumably with the rest of his group, it was where he needed to go. Silent and agreeable, and giving the secretary a fond word before moving on, Colt made his way down the stairs of the White House.

One of the first things Nate had done was to make this place a publicly accessible area. Though few in the city still like to go down there and explore what had been. Colt went down the steps.

The concrete around him felt like a closed-in coffin as he moved forward. Though he knew at any point he could simply activate his ability and jump out from this underground trap and be free in seconds, it still had that lingering trapped feeling to it.

He remembered that Jimmy said he’d been held down here; and wondered if he felt the same way Colt did now.

Would he ever feel comfortable walking these tunnels down below?

A noise broke through the silence as he wandered, the tunnel lit by the occasional light… A tell-tale hammering sound that drew him like a moth to a flame.

It could only be the person he was looking for, and after hearing something, Colt knew now exactly where to go.

Colt followed the sound. The rhythmic tapping was soon accompanied by a stern heat that flooded the otherwise cold basement. As he drew closer to the steel hammering, the atmosphere changed his cold mood, warming it along with the heat that now pressed against his skin. There was a smell in the air, too, of burning coals and smoke.

But the most dominant of the sensations was a clang upon a clang. Metal slamming. 

Each one a welcome drumbeat that promised him that this was new, that this wasn't the place it had been, not the broken basement of a madman where he kept his pet monster.

As Colt arrived, he saw Nate at work, a hammer in hand and a piece of metal on an anvil; nearby was a furnace, alive with the heat and warmth.

“Colt,” Nate said as he stopped hammering, setting his weapon up. “I’d sent a person to give you a message that we were meeting later. All of the orders have been issued with what you two managed to find. You did good work.”

“So I’m early,” Colt said as he walked into the workshop. Nate had converted one of the dingy holes down here into an entire blacksmithy—he saw a pipe run above, too, for the fumes. But the most impressive bits were the steel, hammer, and equipment that had been provided. If he’d seen a place like this before the apocalypse, he’d have thought it some kind of historical reenactment. Now, it was a marvel.

He looked around, running his hand on a lump of steel.

“I’ve taken up forging. I feel it resonates with my Edict, and more than meditation, it’s allowed me to focus in and listen. I’ve even picked up a skill, ‘Blacksmithing,’ Though this place was bought with our faction points. There were, oddly, a few craft-based workshops.” Nate explained, answering Colt’s unspoken question of how he’d even managed to find all of this equipment.

“You plan to stay in Nashville,” Colt said, folding his arms and lifting a brow.

“It depends on how the election goes, but I’ll admit, it’s as good a home as any. There’s a chance to see it grow, and considering the knowledge we’ve been privy to, now that Denny isn’t censoring it… I don’t know.” Nate said and shook his head. “Finding a safe place to rest your head. Isn’t that what everyone wants? We can explore and conquer dungeons, not like I plan to stop using my hammer.”

“I’m not judging,” Colt admitted. He felt comfortable here, sure. Not a part of it, though. Which was intentional. If he got too tied down, people would expect him to pick up from where Denny left off. But the fact that Nate was starting to settle and put down roots made him worry.

Maybe his group was destined to split. Or maybe he felt jealous that the other man had found a potential home?

No matter what, they would always remain friends.

Strength didn’t necessarily mean you were the most cut out to lead the city. And while he felt confident leading his friends into battle, managing an entire population was a different skill set entirely.

He figured if he were put into that fix, he would be no better than Denny.

But where he thought he differed from Nate and why he didn’t feel truly comfortable here was that he felt in his heart he didn’t truly belong; he was now a creature of battle, meant for the dungeons ahead of them. For better or worse, the thrill and ability to advance dominated his thoughts.

Even now, looking at Nate in the middle of his forge, he was thinking, wondering if perhaps there might be a better way to gain insight into Momentum. The environment here was thick with a resonant Edict; surely that would make it easier for Nate to operate and work.

“Well, since you’re up now, and I don’t think I can focus much on my work… Shall we collect the rest of the group and make our plan?”

Colt nodded, looking at the half finished piece of metal on the anvil. It looked almost like a shovel. “As long as you’re willing to part from your work.”

“There will be plenty. Besides, when I got news about the dungeon last night, I got my first Edict quest… Solve the riddle of the frozen academy.” Nate shook his head, “God knows what kind of deep shit we’re about to find ourselves in. Glad you have my back.”

Colt’s eye lit up at the mention of the quest… And the hint it brought. Frozen Academy? That was to be their next dungeon, then? It synced with what they’d observed about the place from the outside… Colt imagined just what sort of enemies they’d be fighting within.

With that, Nate set his hammer down, and walked toward the exit, clearly intending to get things done. Colt followed, his gaze lingering for but a moment on the workshop.

Just what would be the results from a place like this? More weapons like his dagger? Impossible to say, really. But he felt eager to see.