Once it was confirmed the Four Betrayers were well and truly dead, Luke dispersed all frost and arctic winds.

A gentle breeze replaced them. The dust and mists from outside the barrier cleared up. Any black rain vanished, their source—the red clouds up above—went out with it. Even the sky regained its murky gray, overtaking the netherly purple. The snowcapped island quickly returned to its golden splendor. Faint moonlight restored the usual visibility.

On a side note, the Reaver realized his line of thought was wrong. This event evaded being captured and written down in a dungeon dossier for a more obvious reason. Anyone who attempted it died thus far. Authoria likely witnessed many such attempts, shedding light on why she refused his offer to help back then. Thinking he'd fail like they all did.

You could attempt this with an actual party, and not be a loner like Luke, who did it the hard way with overpowered items. Well, mandatory bird companion included—Sooty deserved credit where it was due. Judging the curses, necrotic effects, and territory control being thrown around like money was at the auction house, he hardly saw how any tier 2 team could take it down. Maybe a team of Arunas? Scratch that, five of her would definitely terrorize this place, probably just one or two. Issue was, there had to be a reason why Authoria insisted on coming at level 50 and no higher.

Would it be impossible to unlock this conditional dungeon at a higher level? In hindsight, the requirements to do this were borderline impossible. What if you happened to be a class that didn't use essence, like the majority? Then that necrotic effect, direct healing changing to blight, the rot aura—all of it—would constantly wear you down, even if you developed a measure to resist it. But to dominate it? Fat chance.

Stuck thinking a little too long, Sooty winged Luke in the shin. He examined her; the vitality at tier 2 already paid dividends. She was well on her way to recovery. Better safe than sorry, Luke fed Sooty a tier 1 potion, speeding the process along.

"Try not to think yourself into an early grave, frosty." Wayfinder swung in a short arc on Luke's chest. "Put the four death cheaters to rest, soundly at that. Almost as smoothly as me springs. Don't let it puff up your big head more."

Whispering Tome rested on the top of Authoria's cracked gravestone. The golden ghost smiled sweetly at the semi-sentient artifact. In no hurry, she let Luke take his time. A woman at peace. She ran her incorporeal hands over the book, with a hint of recognition at the black blade emblazoned on Whispering Tome's covers.

Luke found it off-putting Xera hadn't spoken yet. She usually reveled after a battle. That is, until he heard her giggling madly. Oh right. This Greed Concept made her act differently. Hopefully, he'd find a fix. Switching forms took her out of that state, so Luke started with that. Xera changed into wand form. She shook violently, then sighed.

"A fantastic haze. Being able to taste their soul blood, nothing comes close." She mellowed out some, then said, "Master, that gold you put into the ice keeps me together way better than the black ice you used to use."

Happy to take things in that direction for a subject, Luke smirked. "Glad to hear it, Xera. Started to feel bad with the wear you endured against Nemenoth and Calista."

"No platitudes for abusin' me springs?" Wayfinder jibed.

"Yes, yes, Wayfinder the almighty. Finder of ways, and keeper of directions."

The Reaver let those two artifacts jabber on between each other. He checked on Sooty, close to good as new by now. She cawed with energy, hopping around the restored golden grass and soil, off in a game of her own. With a hint of reluctance, Luke moved toward Authoria's grave.

Apologetically brushing the gravestone he cracked, Luke said, "Time for you to rest then, Authoria? Was it everything you expected?"

That same peaceful smile appeared on Authoria's refined face. Curl of hair moved to cover part of her forehead. She reached out to the Reaver's arm. Rubbing for a moment, the faint ethereal cold managed to connect with the living ice. She swiftly stood, put a hand on Luke's cheek, leaned in to his neck, and kissed it.

[Infused with the four wisps of betrayal and a sealed kiss, Authoria's Mark upgrades to the highest body mark in the Edgelands, the Golden Stigmata]

Authoria backpedaled gracefully, put her hands together to form a 'V' with her arms towards her thighs, and bowed to Luke.

[Sylen's First Lady thanks you for granting her true rest. She may watch over the Ruined Realm at her leisure, but is no longer forced to by the undeath energy beneath the golden grave land]

Taking it in, Luke said, "You'll be around occasionally? I may visit. Set some flowers here. Seems like no one tries to take care of this grave."

Apparently touched by the gesture, Authoria nodded. She closed her eyes and reopened them. A blinding radiance of gold overtook the visual organs. A nova of gold seared into the Spectral Wing. Her golden island settled at the base of the caldera. The earth surrounding it started to restore itself, leveling out the terrain once more.

[Unimpeded by betrayal's defilement, Authoria reasserts her dominion over the marshes and lands adjacent to them. Creatures native to the swamps hidden by the mists lose their ability to rise from the mud, vanishing from the dungeon. The Necropolis below crumbles into the etherous void]

Ancient buildings, rotting structures, and thousands of graves turned into motes. Luke saw the land transform in real time, becoming a golden plain with a dip about one hundred feet away from the mist walls containing what remained of the swamps. They hedged against the usual dungeon path. At that dip, silver metal spikes hundreds of feet high sprouted, and simple gardens filled reclaimed land behind the newly minted gates. Ghost spawned around the spikes, wearing Authoria's mark in design, yet glowing a dull bronze. Luke recognized one particularly prominent ghost.

[Nelth, the Restored] (Neutral - Invulnerable within the mists)

Tier: 2

Level: 75

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HP: 40,000/40,000

Authoria's most loyal protector, his winds revered by many. Restored by Radiance. The last knight to die defending from the Betrayers. Head gatekeeper to his lady's resting point, few may interrupt her rest.

Luke thought to comment, but Authoria's work continued. He let her mold this realm to her will. The other artifacts, catching the mood, quieted down. Sooty landed on the Reaver's left shoulder. Whispering Tome opened itself on top of Authoria's giant gravestone and began to record in runic.

Summoning a radiant star, Authoria crushed it with her hand. Its dust settled into the land. Two golden cosmic swirls settled on each side of the ghost's headstone.

[Authoria, the Golden Astralist, tires of the rot plaguing her rest. All rotting aura pushes out of her golden lands, and halves in potency for the entire Spectral Wing]

[Soul Mage Aren senses the environmental change and redirects the rot aura away from the reclaimed radiance, concentrating what remains on the direct path to his domed building]

Golden dust came from crevices in the newly remade swamp. Not that you could call it a swamp anymore, golden plains suited the terrain. Rising into a thin spread cloud, the microscopic brilliance suffused itself onto Luke, then misted over to Sooty, and the three artifacts.

[Authoria's reward has been adjusted to the maximum allowed by the World Law of Exchange as agreed upon]

Luke thought a large portion of that exchange was taken up by the Golden Stigmata, or at least it made sense if it was so. Done reasserting herself over the lands under her watch, Authoria waved at Luke. She gestured and drew in the air, Luke made out the form of flowers, and brushing away dirt. Satisfied, Authoria stepped to her grave and lay down in it. The spirit sank in, embracing real rest for the first time in centuries. The Interface granted the remaining rewards for her.

[Using up the records ripped away from the Necropolis, you may choose two of the following three rewards:

1. Three levels for each member of your party. Note: Detected Wayfinder needs astronomical amounts of experience to level further. This reward will only grant him 10% of the experience required for the next level.

2. You may increase one already known Affinity of your choosing by three points, except for any Affinity at fifty or higher.

3. Authoria allows you access to a portion of her buried wealth. Choosing this reward will grant you an immediate 9,000 gold]

It went without saying Luke would choose the party-wide benefit first. As before, Wayfinder got shafted somewhat. But who told him to need such a ridiculous amount of experience to level? Even the World Laws mandated the compass to hold his horses. Reserving option one, making it his first selection, the Reaver weighed the benefits of the other two options.

Before that, he remembered the three artifacts, and Sooty tended not to see Interface prompts directly from him. Quickly explaining the possible rewards to the other four members of the party, including the non-verbal pair of crow and tome, Luke took their input. Xera teased Wayfinder about the discrimination toward his leveling process.

Allowing his needle to rotate across each direction, Wayfinder said, "A wee hitch in me directions. Any of me longer-lived and competent masters suffered around this level of mine."

Crossing his arms and leaning against Authoria's headstone, Luke agreed. "I'll say. The last time we got a similar reward, it was enough for one level for you. Now? Not even twenty percent of a level."

"We Numbered end up flounderin' in that department. Some worse than other shiny hunks of metal," Wayfinder grew silent for a second, "the effects and laws make me one of the worst offenders, lad. 'Faid I won't be gifting you the final direction anytime soon."

Taking in the changed land—a little too golden, but more welcoming than the muddy sludge of the previous swamp—Luke questioned, "Is there a limit to how many abilities you'll end up having, Wayfinder?"

"That there is, Sin. The whispers overtake me if I try to reveal too much."

Keep underestimating how the artifact race endures curses by this world. How deeply is Whispering Tome affected, since he's not fully considered one?

Pivoting, Luke asked for any thoughts on the other two options. Wayfinder hit the heart of the matter.

"Gold ain't going to matter if you quit breathin' two days from now. Little chance that sum will get something worth more than the second reward."

Nine thousand gold ended up being enough for high quality rares, or a niche exceptional quality item, at least in the tier 2 range. Perhaps that was distorted by the Tide bringing out surge pricing and humanity's greed. Merchants wanted to capitalize, whether that resulted in blood being spilled or not. Being what he was, the Reaver applauded the ruthless application. Ironic that it would come back to bite him. Supplies had dried up. What was available in the city had been procured already, outside of more basic items like healing potions.

All that was a roundabout way of saying gold was practically useless to Luke in the short term. His current stash of roughly four thousand gold covered anything he'd need on a day-to-day basis, or to replenish the basics.

"Option one and two it is then. Irresponsibly staying in debt is my forte, anyway."

Choosing those two, the levels applied immediately, while another notice popped up in the logs.

[Choose which Affinity you would like to raise]

With Ice Affinity being barred from him, as its number reached the cap, the remaining choice was actually quite easy for Luke.

"Ether Affinity."

[Acknowledging host's choice. Three Ether Affinity has been added to your spirit. All rewards have been distributed. The debt Authoria owed you has been satisfied]

That over with, the Reaver checked over Authoria's grave site. It was dustless, since he blasted it with frost who knows how many times, during the recent fight. He spruced it up by moving the dirt to settle properly. Other than that, he set a nondescript flower on the gravestone, like he used to do at his mother's site, before the Vanishings on Earth began.

A niggling voice in the back of his head said to check the rest of the gains. The Reaver shut it off; there were better places to do so. Ones that didn't threaten to shut down at any hour when the Silver Black Tower took the rest of the negative ether running the place. The journey back was bizarrely different from the way in. No swamp. The path smoothed out to a gilded stone road and led to an actual gate, where ghosts saluted him.

He exited Authoria's reclaimed lands, passing through the thick mists, concealing most of the changes within the Spectral Wing. Only when he stepped foot into the original mass grave site that had the skeletons and other monsters did the Spectral Wing return to normal.

Except even that wasn't the case, the rot aura, while still present, thinned considerably. When people came back to this wing in the future, it would probably stop being so sparsely used. While you still needed measures against the rot, or to hit immaterial enemies like the banshees, the bar lowered by almost half compared to before. Like that, Luke, through solving the woes of a certain golden ghost, ended up smoothing the path for future tier 1 hunters inadvertently.

Scratching Sooty's talons, the Reaver stepped onto the rotting dock—that much hadn't changed—and flagged down the ferry, waiting to stand next to the personification of death to cross the soul-filled lake. During the wait, with nothing else to do, he once more started to review Interface notices.

[You have reached level 54. Gained 8 Skill Points]

[Your companion, Sooty, has reached level 54. Gained 4 Skill Points]

[Xera, the Sword Wand, and Whispering Tome have reached level 53]

One level must've been from killing the Four Betrayers. Further cemented by how two artifacts gained three levels, all from the quest reward, and not four. Luke already anticipated a slower grind from here on out, at least in terms of raw level gain. Four tier 2, level 75 boss monster kills gave one entire level. It could've come close to a second level, but Luke didn't really know of a method to figure that out. Anyway, not one to grumble over progress, he stepped onto the ancient ferry, which had shown up moments ago. Standing toward the back, Luke waited for the vessel to move. A lantern with teal light illuminated the mists swirling over the lake as the ferryman pushed off.

Pointing herself toward the skeleton ferryman, with a hint of melancholy, Xera said, "Master, he seems hungry like I am."

"Soul-starved, lass." Wayfinder said, "This puny lake ain't worth the salt it keeps at its depths to that horror."

[The Ferryman] (Obscured)

Tier: 4

Level: 100

HP: ???/???

All the progress Luke made up until now, and yet, that sixth sense blared constantly. This creature could still kill him. At least now he could struggle for a minute or two.

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