For some reason, they needed me to go with them into the dungeon. Not even Malaca knew why, and that — coming from her — was a terrible sign.
As we approached the group, I carefully counted: eight people besides the old mage, the bourgeois boy, and his father, Varnak. A small army... and I was the ticket.
Four adventurers I didn't recognize from the bourgeois's group stepped forward. They, unlike the elders, were still hooded but soon removed them like someone taking off a mask of shame. I hadn't expected empathy — but there it was.
— We apologize, Lady Malaca — said the first, a humanoid feline with spotted fur like a cheetah. His build resembled Leonan's, but slimmer, more agile, perhaps more lethal. — We only found out about the kidnapping when we got here.
On his back, he carried a long-shafted spear with silver inscriptions that pulsed softly, as if breathing.
The others introduced themselves with the silence of those who carry too many secrets.
A dwarf woman with a stern expression, broad shoulders, and wine-colored eyes held a black wooden staff with a crimson rose at its tip. The energy flowing from the flower seemed alive… or hungry.
And finally... a curious figure. At first glance, it looked like a child — human, slender, no taller than 1.40 meters. But there was no innocence there. Her eyes were deep, watchful. Her presence... slippery. I felt that if I looked away, I would forget she existed.
— It's all right, girls. — said Malaca, her voice firm but pained. — I know who's really behind this.
My eyes swept the horizon in search of the one being Malaca feared: the Molok. But he was nowhere to be found. Not a trace.
Then, a sharp wind blew from above, stirring the dust and forcing everyone to shut their eyes by instinct. That's when the sky opened in a beam of sunlight, firm and golden. And there, descending with the lightness of a leaf and the majesty of an emperor, he appeared.
Marcoriel.
His wings were fully spread — an absurd wingspan, casting his shadow over all of us. He descended unhurried, unafraid. A war angel. A silent judge.
— Marcoriel... — I murmured, surprised.
Marcoriel landed on the ground as if gravity dared not touch him. He looked at the humans before him — and the disdain was clear.
— You humans are despicable. — His voice echoed like restrained thunder. — Release the two girls. I will not condone this kind of behavior. The sooner this ends, the sooner I can speak with the Bard.
Varnak seemed on the verge of exploding, but there was a restrained tension in his voice — a taut rope stretched to its limit, not daring to snap before the man in front of him.
— Lord Marcoriel… we need the Bard to come with us. Otherwise, our chances of conquering this place are… negligible.
Marcoriel's gaze turned icy. The aura around him fluctuated, as if the air itself refused to touch his skin.
— How dare you say my presence makes your chances… negligible? — his voice was low, yet laced with venom.
Varnak opened his mouth, but held back. The argument between them was dense, full of subtext that escaped both me and Malaca. However, she began to grasp the heart of the conflict the moment the man in the dark robe pulled a golden scroll from his coat.
— But how…? — she whispered, stunned.
That was enough. The whisper sliced through the air like a blade and drew Varnak's attention. He turned, a smug smile framing his face.
— It's exactly what you're thinking, Miss Malaca.
— When…? — she asked, her voice heavy with disbelief.
Before Varnak could answer, he was interrupted. But not by me. His son burst out with the truth, spitting words that felt heavier than stones as he boasted. Malaca stiffened.
— When the fifth floor was discovered, of course. Oh, if you had seen the greed of those miserable adventurers… — he let out a dry laugh. — Their leader killed his own party to sell us this scroll. But don't worry, Vrigs gave him a proper end… fitting for traitors. HAHAHAHAHA!
The laughter cut through the mood like a sudden storm.
To Malaca, it might have been an extraordinary revelation. To me, everything was chaos. I could only focus on the long-bearded mage, who at last had a name.
Vrigs.
— But it's impossible to win with just one gold and one platinum... even if they're strong. — Malaca's voice trembled with indignation. — They're killing themselves... and they'll take everyone down with them.
The young man stepped back, as if her words had the power to shove him. But it was Valak's smile — twisted and confident — that truly silenced Malaca.
— You think we didn't consider that? What we need... is something exceptional. Something unique. Something... singular.
And then, the old man's eyes turned to me.
Me.
— Me? — my voice faltered.
— Of course, boy. — Valak's tone was almost gentle, but it cut deeper than a whip. — You can grant everyone unique abilities. Abilities not even a diamond could conjure. And time… ah, the time you save… is worth more than any precious metal.
He walked toward me. Each step seemed to sink into the ground with invisible weight.
— When my son mentioned "renting a bard" to level up… I nearly hit him. Who, in their right mind, would invest in a pathetic buffer? — the contempt in his voice was clear, until he looked at me again. — But after what you did… it's absurd you're still in this city. At the edge of this crumbling empire.
Malaca crossed her arms. Her gaze was calculated, but there was emotion behind it — an old spark awakening.
— Let me come too. My payment will be the freedom of my Nieces… and besides, I want to stay with the bard.
Valak frowned, but before he could protest, it was the great Molok who spoke, his voice like restrained thunder:
— I agree. The stronger we are, the better our chances.
The ground felt unsteady beneath my feet. Everyone seemed to know about some hidden plan… and I was the missing piece. But I had no idea what the game was.
Vrigs looked to Varnak, waiting. The bourgeois, visibly conflicted, raised his hand in a restrained gesture.
The mage sighed and snapped his fingers.
The dome exploded — not with sound, but with light. Glimmering fragments burst into the air like shards of magical glass, evaporating before they even touched the ground. Zomeia and Bromeia fell, injured but alive.
— My apologies, Lady Malaca — said Marcoriel, offering a short but sincere bow. — And to you as well, Bard. From now on, we are part of the same team.
The girls ran to Malaca, terrified. She embraced them without hesitation, but her gaze revealed a clear discomfort. Even so, she gently pushed them away, and they ran off, toward safety.
They were safe.
And I... was the currency.
My ticket was my voice. My song.
— I… will sing the song. — I took a deep breath, trying to gather strength. — Unfortunately, with everything happening, I wasn't in the mood. But I've never had the privilege of choosing the right time. That's how it was in my previous world too...
There was no plan. But I had to trust these lunatics had one. The system was clear: buffs can't be stacked.
My only hope… was that my ability allowed for buff-swapping in real time.
Otherwise, the monsters would be the least of my problems.
I was going in blind.
But sometimes… it's in the abyss that the melody gains power.
So I sang.
⚠️ WARNING: For the full experience of this scene, please follow the instructions.
( Please listen to the fourth track on the playlist. "The Bard" on Spotify. If you can't find my playlist, please listen to Time is On My Side by The Rolling Stones.)
Do not continue reading until the song is over. 🎵