“Hey Chloe,” I message offhandedly as we make our way into the keep. “There’s something else that’s been on my mind.”

“What’s that?”

“How do you think the Gauntlet adjusts to groups of people trying to take it on at the same time?”

“You mean, like how we’re entering together?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. Does the dungeon increase the number of enemies if there’s larger parties that go inside at once. But also, what happens if another group comes in? What if Alana— the real Alana— or Lindsey or Alexey or… I don’t know who else might come in here. Would they eventually catch up to us, or we to them? Or does the Tower run a bunch of different, or maybe identical Gauntlets simultaneously?”

“I don’t know… I would think you’d be a lot more qualified to speculate on this sort of thing. You’ve got the most experience dealing with the post-System world of… probably anyone on Earth.”

“Yeah, by a few memories that add up to… maybe a couple of hours–”

“Not the length of time. It’s that those memories include discussions with Madison and… Dr. Chotono, was it? About the System, its purpose, and how things function. It’s those insights and that understanding that the rest of us don’t have, and probably won’t get for… ten thousand years?”

This makes me chuckle. Reluctantly, I slip my hand out of Chloe’s and ready my [Mechanical Arm Cannon] once more. The fortress’s keep isn’t ostentatious as I’d expect. No elaborate chandelier, no gold or violet or crimson carpeting, no ostentatious giant pictures or marble busts or anything else I would associate with the lords and ladies of the middle ages.

No, this place is covered in the ravages of war. Bloodstains are everywhere. The walls are charred and gashed. The room smells of smoke and the acridity of sulfur and rotten eggs. The air is charged, filled with malicious intent. Almost as though the souls of the damned who once fought and died within these walls still haunt the place.

A creeping chill passes through me. My heart palpitates as I take in the surroundings through [Archangel’s Gaze]. Sure enough, it does seem like something incorporeal is approaching. I ready my blade, but Chloe simply shakes her head and walks forward, her new [Rod of Restoration] held in front of her chest. I attempt to approach her, but I’m rebuffed.

“Please, let me do this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a [Heavenly Saintess]. Part of my job is to consecrate. To protect, and to heal. The living primarily, but also the restless souls which linger here, and guide them onward.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got this.”

I trust Chloe’s judgement on this, but I also don’t want to take any chances. I pull out my [Shining Sword], allowing its faint golden luminosity to fill the air around me. I walk up next to Chloe, and thrust it in the ground in front of her.

“To support you. If you need it, of course.”

I walk back a few paces and wait. The foreboding sensation grows stronger and nearer as the temperature in the room abruptly drops. I suppress my body’s urge to shiver. Poorly, considering my body has broken out into goosebumps against my will and my palms are growing damp with cold sweat. But I focus on Chloe, who stands in the center of the room with closed eyes and a focused look on her face.

I send her nothing but warmth and love through our bond, along with a general impression that I’m here for her the moment she calls for me. I don’t say anything, lest I break her concentration.

A high pitched wail breaks out, filling the room with a discordant noise that shatters the single stained glass window above and behind me. The spectral mass, previously invisible to unmodified eyes, begins to coalesce into a faint apparition, a fog bank perhaps eight feet high and twenty feet square. As the wail ceases, hundreds of low moans echo in a cacophonous chorus of the departed. My mind feels like it’s being lightly clamped down upon, a feeling that goes away just as quickly as it manifested.

[You have resisted [Call of the Departed Dead]. You are immune to further instances of this effect for 1 day.]

Chloe stands firm, resolute and unflinching. Her hands are clasped, the [Rod of Restoration] held upright between them, and her head is lowered, as if bowed in prayer. Light fills her entire body, and [Ether] surges to the surface of her skin. She takes a long, deep breath.

The mass of damned souls charges directly at Chloe. I instinctively want to jump in front of Chloe, defend her, protect her. But this is what she wants, and I need to respect her autonomy and that fiery will inside her.

As soon as the souls are about to collide with Chloe, they’re rebuffed. An arm comprised of shrieking, ghostly figures emerges out of the central mass, bearing down upon Chloe. But it too is repelled by Chloe’s spell. The light which previously filled Chloe’s body now spreads out like a cascading waterfall, piling onto the stone floor and turning it from gray to gold. And that golden light seems to hurt the ghastly mass, rebuking it with but a touch.

The spirits don’t take Chloe’s rebuff easily. They again charge at her, but Chloe is unfazed. She raises her rod into the air, shooting another, even brighter wave of golden radiance straight into the undead abomination. It shrieks, a mixture of pain and… something else. Relief, almost. Chloe’s spell is having an undeniable effect, slowly undoing whatever twisted magic is binding these souls together and forcing them to remain in our world, in a clearly pained state.

“It is time for you to rest,” Chloe says. “It is time for you to heal.”

As she says the last word, more power shoots forth out of Chloe. Though it’s not her [Scouring Light]. True to her statement, this is a variation on her [Healing Light] spell. As it hits the mass of souls, some of them, the weaker, less tainted ones, begin to fade away. Those who remain, however, are only emboldened by the core of malice which still remains.

They again bash at Chloe, attempting to smother her from all sides. I shudder, not wanting to see her hurt. I expect another surge of pain to come through our bond, but I am pleasantly surprised when Chloe instead sends only confidence and determination. Her knees are buckled. Her right knee is but an inch from the ground, so low has she been brought from the spectral assault. But she remains poised, unflappable. Triumphant.

Another wave of light streams out from her. My own internal wounds are healing as well from the intensity of the healing magic all around, my [Health] ticking up at a pace now twice-accelerated. And the mass of souls is disintegrating at a quickened pace as well.

No… The ghastly composite is changing. Focusing. Concentrating itself and attempting to lash out at Chloe. But Chloe… closes her eyes? I fear, and I am upset at myself that I’m afraid and allowing that fear to leak through to her. I try and fail to force myself to remain as resolute as Chloe is. Her resolve— powering through our bond— helps with that a lot.

The mass charges one final time, thousands of wails of grief and pain bellowing out, But Chloe doesn’t try to rebuff it this time. Instead, she stands with arms open, eyes closed, head high, almost as though she’s about to wrap the specter into an embrace.

And then she… does exactly that. Her arms wrap around the creature, which is now growing smaller and smaller as her spell continues to heal it. Each ghost wails as it disintegrates, but these wails aren’t wails of agony or malice anymore. Now they are comfort. Relief. Of being healed of spirit and mind, ready to move on. On toward wherever it is the departed go when their time has come. Heaven or the Elysian Fields or Valhalla or… maybe just disintegrating into nothing; every religion has proposed their own afterlife, but the truth remains one of those scientifically unknowable things.

[Your party has purged a Spectral Abomination (Level 40). You have gained a boosted 1,500 Experience.]

[Level: 39; Experience: 772,100; To Next: 39,555]

[Current Stats: [Health]: 2,789 / 4,881; [Ether]: 2,142 / 3,490]

[Current Stats: [Strength]: 77 (Base: 45); [Speed]: 77 (Base: 45); [Vitality]: 141 (Base: 82); [Mind]: 210 (Base: 122)]

Makes sense, considering I did basically nothing in the fight. If it even could have been called a fight. It felt more like magical therapy than anything.

Chloe turns around with a soft smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She looks incredibly tired, and I rush in to grab her just as she starts to collapse on the ground. Part of me doesn’t want to relax. There could always be more enemies lying in wait. Not to mention, there’s still that thing from the third floor. Sooner or later, it’ll show up, especially now that we’ve probably defeated the final boss of the floor. That metallic clanging as it approaches, a dirge that threatens to send all those who rest too long to instead rest for eternity.

Though, there is one question remaining: where is the staircase leading up to the next floor? Probably in the throne room. For now, though, there’s at least a few minutes we can spare, and one treasure chest that appeared shortly after the System notification. Chloe sits down on a piece of a broken column and watches with a tired expression while I open it.

Within it are six more [Ether Canisters], something we sorely need more of. But underneath them is a robe, not too dissimilar in appearance from Chloe’s current one. I suspect it’s a natural upgrade to what she’s currently wearing.

Flowing drapery of purest white with a smoothness that leaves silken fabric woefully wanting. Thin strands of glowing gold permeate the fabric, and it is adorned with hundreds of tiny onyxes and opals in an alternating checkerboard pattern.

Chloe looks at it excitedly, and despite her fatigue, she wastes no time in slipping out of her current robe. Though, she’s content to waste several seconds before putting the new one on. I seriously doubt that she’s come down with a sudden onset of fatigue. I play it off as such nonetheless, not wanting to encourage such antics in so dangerous a location.

“Wow,” she says as she finishes tying the waistband around herself. “This is… the most comfortable outfit I’ve ever worn before. I think I understand a little bit more why you never want to take your wings off.”

I’m not sure it’s quite the same. My wings aren’t exactly physically comfortable to have harnessed on my back nearly every waking morning. But they do offer me comfort in a way that nothing else really can. I… I wonder if it’s the same for other people going through similar dysphoria.

“It looks amazing on you,” I say. “And I’ll bet that it provides even better protection than before as well.”

“Yep. It also gives me a small boost to any spells of the Light or Dark attributes, as well as partial resistance against the same.”

I ponder that first part. “Dark attribute spells. Do you think you’re going to try to learn some?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just know that Darkness is often associated with evil. And I bet that some sort of Dark-aligned necromancy spell was responsible for all of… well, this,” I say, gesturing to the room and evoking the spirits of the ghosts whom Chloe just purged from undeath.

Chloe takes a moment to think about her answer as the two of us head into the throne room where the staircase to the next level awaits. “I think it’s better that I know more about it. Partially because I shouldn’t assume that Darkness is evil any more than Light is always good. It wouldn’t be good if I used [Scouring Light] on the innocent. And because, if someone does try to use Dark magic for evil, I should be aware of how it works, and prepared to counter it if necessary.”

I nod. “I agree completely with all of that. Especially the part about Dark magic not being evil. I don’t think any of these powers are inherently good or evil. It’s all a question of what we choose to do with them that matters in the end.”

Chloe’s hand slips in mine. “The next floor awaits us. Shall we?”