The three portals had become four. Their destinations, too, had shifted.
This was not good news for Lucian.
Of the three unopened portals, he could no longer be certain whether any still led to the Eternal City or the Crumbling Farum Azula.
And in his possession, he held only a single Imbued Sword Key—the one from Sellia, Town of Sorcery.
Which meant that, if he wanted to open all four portals of the Belfries, he would need to find not just the key hidden within Raya Lucaria as in the game, but another one besides—buried who-knew-where in the Lands Between.
He doubted the rules would be as simple as the game had suggested: one key for each gate.
There had to be more.
The Lands Between must hold more Imbued Sword Keys than a mere handful. The Four Belfries, after all, were not a trinket for one or two wanderers, but a great hub of travel. A system so vast must once have been supported by keys crafted in number.
He could only hope he stumbled upon more in some forgotten corner.
For now, Lucian chose not to waste the single key he had.
With only one, there was no way to judge which portal was which. Better to wait until he had acquired the one from the Academy, then make his attempt. At least then he could compare the destinations, and see whether paths still remained to the Eternal City or the floating ruins.
But since he was already here, he decided to step into the portal the Cuckoos had opened.
The cavern he had glimpsed before—filled with glintstone crystal, was still waiting.
This time, he brought Selyra with him.
There was no point leaving her behind. She had nothing to do here, and her presence could double their efficiency if the cavern demanded they split paths.
With her assassin's skill, she could handle herself against most dangers.
They stepped back into the crystal cavern.
But Lucian quickly realized this place might not be Liurnia at all.
The air was too cold.
Caves were naturally cooler than the surface, true—but even in Liurnia's other caverns, the temperature never fell this low.
Earlier, when he had entered only briefly, he hadn't noticed. Now, lingering longer, the unnatural chill bit into him.
Where on 'earth' have I ended up? Is this even Liurnia anymore?
He glanced at Selyra. Her thin dancer's dress seemed pitifully inadequate for the cold. Would it affect her?
But she looked unbothered.
Of course. Not only was she a Numen, an "Eternal" descendant whose blood already ran cold, but she was also a hero. For one of her constitution, ordinary chill was nothing to fear. Unless it was a mountaintop blizzard or volcanic storm, she would be fine.
Still, Lucian asked if she was all right. When she answered calmly, he let the matter drop and turned his attention to exploration.
At first, they searched together.
But soon the sheer size of the cavern forced them apart.
Lucian studied the glintstone crystals along his chosen path. Some bore smooth cut marks, as though already harvested.
Likely, the Cuckoos had obtained their Glintstone Carver axe here, using it to hack the crystals from the walls.
They had paid a steep price, though.
Corpses littered the cavern. Broken armor and gnawed bones hung impaled on crystal spires. Some creature had slaughtered the invaders, and fed upon them.
How long ago? The rot suggested months, at least.
And had that creature been slain, or did it still lurk unseen? Lucian could not tell.
He pressed on, observing the many hues of glintstone that gleamed around him.
Most common were the pale gray clusters—worthless, abundant in Liurnia's lake, not even fit to mine.
Faint blue crystals contained a trace of magic, but were weak and brittle. These were the ones that could be crushed in the hand to release paltry bursts of sorcery—useful in desperation, but beneath the notice of true scholars.
Deeper blues and greens were different. Denser, stronger, they could be worked into staves or embedded in arms. Carian and Academy sorceries both drew power from such crystals, their natural resonance enhancing spellcraft.
At the highest tier lay the gems that hardly deserved to be called "crystals" at all—pure stones of deep, luminous blue or green, rare as miracles.
Lusat and Azur, the master sorcerers whose bodies half-turned to crystal, bore such gems in their flesh and staves alike. The Sword of Night and Flame itself carried one such deep green stone set into its blade.
At the end of his path, Lucian discovered a glintstone the size of a human head—deep blue, gleaming with potency.
Stormveil had been trying to train sorcerers, but the effort was hampered by lack of teachers and, critically, lack of staves.
This stone could solve part of that problem.
Drawing the Glintstone Carver, Lucian poured magic into its war skill. The axe's edge shimmered with vibrating energy, and when he pressed it against the stone—
Zzzh—
A clean slice cut through. The gem came free, its surface mirror-smooth.
Lucian stowed it in his storage disk. He was just about to seek another path when a sharp metallic clang rang out in the distance.
Steel on steel.
Selyra.
Without hesitation, Lucian hurried toward the sound.
The path wound like a maze, but he eventually found her.
Selyra stood with her back to a crystal wall, dagger drawn, her posture tense. Shards of glintstone lay shattered on the ground. Blue blood streaked her blade. Wounds marked her shoulder and arm, shallow but fresh.
She had fought something, and could not finish it.
Unusual, for a Black Knife Assassin. Their art lay in concealment, swift strikes, blades infused with the rune of destined death. But stripped of her gear, Selyra could rely only on skill and flesh.
"How is it?" Lucian asked.
She wiped the blood from her arm. Her voice was calm, but edged with frustration.
"A strange lizard. Huge. Covered in glintstone. I've never seen its like. Not strong… but good at hiding. It blends with the crystals. I can't find it unless it shows itself."
Lucian scanned the chamber.
The walls were ringed in tall crystals, their smooth faces gleaming like mirrors. In them, he saw himself, Selyra, and—nothing else.
No hint of their enemy.
But clearly, it was still here.
He summoned a breeze, careful not to call a storm that might collapse the cavern.
Air currents brushed along the walls, revealing gaps—hidden passages between the crystal formations. The chamber was not a sealed arena, but a labyrinth of reflective corridors.
A perfect hunting ground.
The lizard was there, tucked behind one crystal wall, waiting.
The instant it sensed discovery, it lunged.
A blur of motion, a black-scaled beast with pale blue crystals sprouting from its back, easily three or four meters long. Its limbs were slender, its body leaner than a Rune Bear's, but no less dangerous.
It darted between crystals, its reflections splitting into illusory doubles. Two false lizards burst forth to flank them.
Lucian drew the Sword of Night and Flame. Flames roared out, engulfing both phantoms. They shattered like glass, vanishing.
The real one struck from behind.
Lucian spun—but too late. A flash of searing light burst from the creature's crystals, blinding him. A heavy mass slammed into his chest.
The lizard had curled into a wheel, rolling its jagged back like a spiked boulder. Sparks flew as its crystals screeched against Lucian's armor.
Ordinary prey would have been torn to ribbons, crushed to pulp.
But Lucian caught it.
Wind gathered around him, forming a barrier that blunted the impact. Even so, sharp crystals scored his jaw and cheek.
He gritted his teeth, seized the beast in both arms, and hauled it up.
"You like throwing yourself into my arms?" he growled. "My embrace isn't meant for beasts like you."
Held upside down, limbs flailing, the lizard writhed. Frosty breath burst from its jaws, icing Lucian's legs. Its tail lashed wildly, smashing nearby crystals.
But his grip did not falter.
He crushed it against his chest. The crystals pierced his flesh, but he ignored the pain. He squeezed tighter, until the creature's chest cavity collapsed, until frozen breath gave way to choking silence.
With a wet, ugly sound, the lizard's insides spilled from its jaws. Its body went limp.
Dead.
Lucian flung it aside, wiped the blood from his hands, and retrieved the Sword of Night and Flame.
The shallow cuts across his face were already closing. With the vitality of fifty levels worth of vigor, such wounds healed almost as soon as they were made.
A voice drifted coolly into his ear.
"Must you always fight so… barbarically?" Melina chided, feigning detachment. "You could have simply dodged, finished it cleanly. Yet you let yourself be wounded."