Dungeon of Assassins [LitRPG Through the Eyes of the NPCs]

Chapter 151: Arrival at Everdark Canyon


The student group had traveled all day, hiking through forests and rocky passes until, by evening, they reached the rim of Everdark Canyon. As the sun dipped lower, they made camp just above the shadowed chasm.

The sun hadn't yet reached the canyon floor. Mist clung to the dark ridges, and in the golden light above, a dozen mage students stood in loose groups near their tents and bedrolls, their boots crunching over dry leaves.

Silvea stepped onto a flat stone outcrop overlooking the chasm. Her cloak billowed slightly in the breeze. She raised her voice without the need for a spell. "Everyone finished setting up?"

The chatter died. A few students nodded. One yawned.

"Good," she said. "As you know, tomorrow's hunt is your final test of wilderness magic and cooperative tactics. At sunrise, you'll descend into the Everdark Canyon in teams of three to five. Your goal is simple: remove threats to the nightbloom ecosystem."

Mirabelle raised her hand. "Do the were-bees know we're helping them?"

A few chuckles followed.

Silvea gave her a patient look. "They're aware of us, yes. They tolerate our presence as long as we stay clear of their hives. Which brings me to the rules."

She stepped aside and tapped a stone with her staff. A glowing projection shimmered into view.

"You'll have one day. Dusk marks the end of the competition. Don't be late. Here are the rules you'll follow:

Teams must consist of three to five mages

Do not cross the canyon's boundaries

No ice magic. It damages the nightblooms and provokes the hive

No harming were-bees, even accidentally. That's an immediate ten-point deduction

Cooperation is encouraged. There are more monsters than students, and some threats require teamwork"

"There are no prizes," Silvea continued, letting her gaze sweep the group. "You're not here for gold. You're here to prove you can act with discipline and clarity under pressure. Your reward is honor... and points. Nothing more."

She gestured again, and the air shimmered with arcane runes that aligned themselves into a clean list:

Everdark Hunt Scoring System Identifying a threat species – +2 points Reporting nest or lair location – +3 points Defeating a monster – +5 points Capturing a live specimen (restrained) – +8 points Observing unique behavior (documented) – +3 points Assisting another team (verified) – +2 points Causing harm to flowers or were-bees – –10 points Casting ice magic in the canyon – –5 points Abandoning a teammate without cause – –5 points High-danger monsters earn a 1.5× point multiplier

Silvea let the chart hover in the air a moment longer, then dismissed it with a flick of her hand. "I'll hand each team a copy."

"You'll be watched. Huntmasters are scrying the area and are in place to extract any injured. If you get in over your heads, scream or send a flare. Otherwise, prove to us you can handle this. Any questions?"

Nobody spoke.

"Good. Teams for tomorrow's hunt will be three to five students each. Form your teams now. If you can't, I'll assign them for you."

Weylan turned at once. He made straight for the trio of priestesses standing near the dryad, still grouped together out of habit or solidarity. They all looked up as he approached.

Mirabelle smirked. "Trying to claim the full miracle package for yourself, Weylan?"

"I was hoping we'd go together," he said honestly. "We work well. You four cover everything a team could need."

Alina groped her quarterstaff tighter and smiled.

"I'd allow that," Silvea called, strolling over before any of them could answer, "if we were preparing for a choir recital. But tomorrow's test includes real danger, and I want as many groups to have a competent healer as possible. No hoarding."

She looked at Weylan. "You may choose one healer to join your team. The others will be assigned elsewhere. At most one healer per team."

Weylan blinked. "I… have to choose?"

"Yes," Silvea said. "Now, please."

The silence stretched. All three priestesses and the dryad looked at him.

Ulmenglanz had crossed her arms. Her gaze was steady, patient. Of the four, she was clearly the most capable in combat, while also the highest-level healer.

Alina… she could fight too and wasn't afraid of anything. She was the type to march into a monster's maw to drag someone out.

Mirabelle? She didn't shine in a fight, but she could recite the entire catalogue of Everdark flora by heart, plus the probable danger level of every native predator. Her knowledge could save time, maybe even lives.

And then there was Faya.

She had a calm and gentle presence, often soft-spoken and kind. But she was not passive. When something mattered to her, she stood her ground. Her quiet nature hid a solid core. She carried Sir Cloverton in her arms, gently nestled like a sacred relic. Weylan could imagine the magic pulsing off that thing into the far distance. Malvorik's conduit. Taking her would give him access to the knowledge of the far away mage.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

There were better fighters, better healers, and Mirabelle probably had read more about the local fauna and flora than even Malvorik knew. Faya on the other hand was the most likely to get into trouble and adopt a canyon spider or try to make friends with a nursery of were-racoons.

He made his decision.

"I choose Faya," Weylan said.

A pause. A ripple went through the group.

"Seriously?" Mirabelle said.

Even Alina turned her head, blinking in surprise. "You sure?"

Ulmenglanz gave him a knowing smile.

Faya looked up at him, surprised.

Weylan cleared his throat. "Well, you do have a solid balance of healing and combat abilities... And someone has to keep you out of trouble."

Faya's lips curled into a smile. "You just like to have me around, do you."

"You're… pleasant to look at," Weylan said before his brain caught up with his mouth. His eyes widened, and he immediately turned away, pretending to scan the crowd for their third teammate. "I mean, just tactically speaking."

Silvea gave a small nod. "Very well. Weylan's team has their healer. Since you both have familiars, you may only choose one other student to join you. The rest of you, make your choices quickly. You will need the rest to be fit tomorrow."

Faya bounced on her feet. "Don't we need to choose a team name?"

Silvea paused, then nodded. "Yes… I should have thought of that." Imagining hours of debate, she quickly added. "It has to be a color! Choose one."

Weylan reacted instantly. "Team Black!"

* * *

Erik cursed low enough that Silvea couldn't hear. "No ice magic? Anything else? How about a blindfold or one arm bound to my back?"

Aldrich turned to him. "Didn't you learn any other spells yet?"

"No!"

Aldrich sighed. "Well, do you want to join my team?"

The lesser noble looked wary. "Why choose someone who can't cast?"

"You can use a rapier, have danger sense and you're a noble. I can assess your abilities and most important of all… you're trustworthy. Unlike most of this lowborn rabble, half of which may be secretly revenants."

"Who else will join us?"

"I'll ask Alina. We three should be enough. Caster, close combat fighter and healer. Any more would just mean more to split the points among."

Erik nodded thoughtfully, then asked. "What do we call ourselves?"

Aldrich grinned. "Team Red, of course."

* * *

Weylan went to ask his roommate Erik to be his third team member, but he'd already joined Aldrich's team. The two asked Alina to join, which she eagerly accepted. The combat heavy duo fit her style perfectly.

The priestesses were beaming while being the center of attention as every team tried to claim a healer for themselves.

The only exception was team "Grey" that had formed nearly instantly: Kane, Lyriel and three others Weylan didn't know, but suspected to be revenants. One of them was a druid who somehow could use some limited healing spells. They also seemed to have a lot of potions and artefacts with them.

Mirabelle tried to join a group of scholarly mages, but Silvea intervened again, pointing out that the newly named team White had almost no combat power.

While they tried to mix up with some more combat oriented students, Ulmenglanz joined up with three of the more nature-oriented students, forming team Green.

Weylan didn't manage to snatch up one of the battle focused students. He was known as a good fighter, but unable to cast spells. He'd also lost too often to inspire confidence. And Faya… holding a hare in her arms and humming hymns while gazing at nothing… He didn't want to have to ask Silvea to get him his last team member.

As he turned around, he found Darken standing right in front of him. "Hi Weylan, do you have an open spot in your team?"

Weylan was honestly surprised. "You haven't joined a team yet?"

"My unique abilities don't seem to inspire the confidence they deserve."

Faya hugged the surprised master of the dark arts. "Welcome to team Black!"

* * *

The evening buzzed with the clatter of pans, chopping of roots, and the smell of sizzling fungi. Students sat around low cookfires in loose clusters, stirring stew pots and comparing last-minute theories.

"I heard the Everdark Canyon is full of glowshrooms that scream when stepped on," someone muttered.

"Those aren't dangerous. But the pollen leeches are," Alina said, ladling soup into a tin cup. "They cling to your lungs and suck your breath."

"That's a myth," Mirabelle scoffed. "No confirmed reports of these parasites exist."

"Just because it's not in a book doesn't mean it won't bite you," Alina shot back.

Faya sat cross-legged beside Weylan, her bowl untouched, Sir Cloverton curled into the crook of her elbow. She tapped the hare's head gently. "He's listening."

Weylan touched the hare and whispered. "Malvorik?"

The hare's ears twitched. A familiar voice echoed inside both their minds.

<I wish I could help, truly. But I never studied the flora or fauna of the Wildewood, much less the Everdark Canyon. My knowledge ends well before that region.>

Faya frowned slightly. "So, we're going in blind?"

<Not entirely.> Malvorik's tone shifted, focused now. <There is a powerful mana-line with a nature aspect running through the canyon. I can sense it even from here. It likely intersects with the were-bee hive on the far side.>

Weylan raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… extremely specific."

<It is. Which makes me concerned. Strong nature-aspected ley currents tend to attract unstable mutations. Expect twisted beings. Plants that hunt, creatures bound to seasonal cycles, sentient molds, almost anything is possible here. That line is probably also responsible for the were-folks existence.>

Faya shivered. "And were-bees."

<Yes. A valley of plants, even if blooming all year long, can never sustain the described number of creatures. That hive must be on a nexus point. They are partially sustained by pure magic. The mana may make them… unusual.>

Weylan exhaled. "Unusual how?"

There was a long pause.

<Let's hope we don't find out the hard way.>

Around them, the fires crackled and the students laughed nervously. But Faya and Weylan ate in silence, listening to the hare's slow, rhythmic breathing.

Their thoughts were cut short by sudden, off-key singing from a nearby ledge. Team Orange, one of the groups that hadn't managed to recruit a healer, had begun rehearsing a reworked version of The Song.

Weylan glanced over and immediately recognized the signs. It was one of those rare moments when revenants stood out plainly in a crowd. They laughed and nudged each other, treating the ritual's melody like a campfire joke. But every NPC in earshot stiffened. They knew what that song meant. No one who understood the stakes would ever sing it lightly. It was a prayer of desperation... a plea for salvation when all other options had failed.

Even so, the bard in their group kept tweaking the lyrics, turning the solemn words into a dramatic appeal for medical backup:

I need a healer! I'm holding out for a healer 'til the end of the run. She's gotta be skilled, And she's gotta be calm, And she's gotta be second to none.

Faya's expression was unreadable. Weylan simply looked away.

As the final verse drifted into silence, Faya rose to her feet but Alina was already moving. She crossed the gap to Team Orange's bard, placed a steady hand on his shoulder, and met his eyes with quiet intensity.

"When you need help," she said, voice calm but firm, "just call. No matter what team you're on, we'll come."

Her words hung in the air like a promise etched in stone. Around the clearing, the other healers looked up and nodded, one by one.

Somewhere deep below, the canyon listened. And waited.

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