Chapter 255 — Twentieth Floor

Chapter 255: Chapter 255 — Twentieth Floor

The boundary into Twenty announced itself through sound before sight, a chorus of distant, unfamiliar voices carrying through the formations well before the party actually reached the transition.

"Other adventurers," Essa said, head tilting to track the direction. "More than one group, from the overlap in voices."

"Twenty sees proper traffic," Haldric explained, noting Arlen’s mild surprise. "Deeper than most casual parties bother with, shallow enough that it’s not purely the realm of specialists. You’ll meet plenty of faces down here."

They crossed into Twenty’s considerably denser formations, the crystal here taking on a richer, almost violet hue, and found the source of the voices within the hour — a party of five working a cleared section near a wide, open chamber, their camp set up with the kind of practiced, semi-permanent efficiency that suggested they’d been established there a while.

"Haldric," one of them called, recognizing him immediately, a broad-shouldered woman with a heavy warhammer slung across her back. "Didn’t expect to see you this deep so soon."

"Veyra. Good to see you’re still in one piece." Haldric raised a hand in easy greeting, the two parties converging with the comfortable familiarity of people who’d crossed paths many times before. "This is Arlen, joined us for his first proper Region Four trip."

"Explorer realm, by the look of him," Veyra said, studying Arlen with open, professional appraisal. "Young for it. Good instincts, I hope, given the company you’re keeping."

"I’ve had good teachers."

"Clearly, if Haldric’s willing to vouch for you." She gestured toward her own party, trading introductions that Arlen mostly let wash past him, more interested in simply watching how easily and naturally two separate groups settled into shared company this deep beneath the world.

The day’s travel had put them close enough to Veyra’s established camp that Haldric decided to stop there for the night rather than push further, and they shared a meal together that evening, the combined parties’ conversation drifting easily between guild gossip, recent contracts, and the particular, practical knowledge every Region Four veteran seemed to accumulate about the terrain’s quirks.

"You hear about the displacement pattern further up?" one of Veyra’s party members asked, a lean, quiet archer Arlen hadn’t caught the name of. "Floor Nine, apparently. Wolves showing up well above their usual rank."

"Heard something similar from a friend’s party," Arlen offered, the old, familiar thread surfacing again without him particularly seeking it out. "Floor Four, months back. Same pattern."

"Seems to be happening more than it used to," the archer said, unbothered, the same casual, unworried tone everyone always carried when the subject came up. "Guild’s looking into it, from what I hear. Nothing confirmed."

The conversation moved on easily, nobody dwelling on it further, and Arlen let it go the same way he always did, filing the detail away alongside everything else he’d gathered without ever properly chasing an answer.

Veyra’s own scout, a quiet catkin woman who’d said little through the meal, finally spoke up once the topic shifted to easier ground. "You two should trade routes before you leave," she said to Essa. "We found a decent shortcut through the dense cluster two days back — saved us the better part of a morning."

"Appreciated," Essa said, already reaching for the small notebook she kept tucked in her belt. "I’ll take whatever detail you’ve got."

The two scouts fell into their own quiet, technical conversation, and Arlen found himself watching them a while, struck again by how thoroughly this region had been mapped and re-mapped by countless hands before his own ever reached it.

Veyra settled near him while the scouts traded notes, studying him with the same open, unhurried curiosity she’d shown earlier. "Haldric doesn’t usually pick up strays," she said. "No offense meant. He’s particular about who he travels with."

"None taken. I appreciated the invitation, honestly. Wasn’t expecting it."

"He must have seen something worth the risk, then. He’s not sentimental about it." She considered him a moment longer, the same professional weighing he’d grown used to from people who actually understood what the Depths demanded. "You planning to keep traveling with his crew, or branching off once you’ve learned the terrain?"

"Haven’t decided yet. Depends how the rest of the trip goes."

"Fair answer. Most people either cling too hard to a good party or abandon one too fast. Sounds like you’re thinking it through properly." She rose, stretching, the conversation settling toward its natural close. "Good luck either way. Hope our paths cross again."

They parted ways with Veyra’s party the following morning, both groups continuing their separate work, and pushed deeper into Twenty’s considerable scale with renewed purpose.

The first real fight of the day came midmorning, a solitary shape bounding between two crystal formations with a speed that immediately set Essa on alert.

"Shard Wolf," she called. "Fast. Watch the claws — they’re properly crystalline, sharper than steel if it catches you clean."

The wolf closed the distance with startling speed, and Arlen met it with the same clean, practiced instincts he’d carried into every fight since joining the party, parrying its first strike with his blade and driving Bulwark Strike into its exposed flank the moment it overextended. Toren finished it from the opposite side, the two of them coordinating without needing much discussion.

"Good teamwork," Haldric said, approving. "That’s how you handle something fast — don’t try to outpace it alone. Let someone else cover the angle it’s not expecting."

Arlen harvested what was worth keeping, and they made camp that evening in a sheltered alcove, the day’s progress satisfying despite the morning’s detour spent parting ways with Veyra’s crew.

Good to see this region’s actually lived in, properly. Not just dangerous ground nobody bothers with. Real people, real work, same as anywhere else I’ve walked.

The warmth arrived once the camp had settled, sharp and eager, into his hands and forearms.

A name surfaced.

Shardclaw

He tested it alone, well apart from the sleeping camp, and felt his own nails and the edges of his hands harden briefly into something crystalline and sharp, a natural weapon layered over his ordinary strikes.

Good, close-range addition. Keep it for when I actually need it.

He said nothing of it to the others the following morning, the old, practiced habit settling comfortably into place even here, among people he’d genuinely come to trust.

He wrote briefly before they set out again.

Met another party on Twenty — good texture, confirms this region sees real, regular traffic. Shardclaw gained from a Shard Wolf, tested privately. Good addition, kept to myself same as always.

He closed the journal, and found himself genuinely looking forward to whatever Twenty’s remaining depths still had waiting, the party’s steady, practiced company settling into something that felt, by now, less like a temporary arrangement and more like genuine, earned companionship.