Chapter Text
It hasn't even been a month and Boscha's troubles have only worsened with time. Every single day that passes is another problem she must deal with and more are to come. Thanks to multiple incidents with the beasts, on top of a newfound mild addiction to Caribellow meat, her wounds have only increased in both quantity and severity. Not even the finest healing potions have been able to keep up with how many ferals she can deal with at one time, her supplies depleting greatly by the day. At this rate it won't matter whether she obtains the treasures that lie hidden below; just escaping Cocytus will be more than sufficient to demonstrate her worth.
'Damnit! She had no potions! She had only her magic, and that was more than enough!' the three-eyed woman remembers, her fury growing by the second as she peers from within a Slitherbeast skeleton. 'Look at you, barely able to handle a few and forced to hide! She didn't hide, but prospered! She became a High Devil in all but name! You can fend them off, but you can't kill them! What kind of High Devil are you?!'
She refuses to become the next in the Mali Family to take a top position, not as long as she's weaker than she feels is necessary. The Triclops can't rise without her forces, and yet she can't convince them to join her unless she can prove her own worth. It's only a matter of time and her body has indeed adapted mildly to the unforgiving environment, it's not perfect; she's still easily wounded, she's starving more than she isn't, she must flee to conserve her potions and their effects.
Each den only further reminds Boscha of her apparent incompetence, every mistake leading her one step closer toward needing to retreat. She can always come back another day, yet her pride refuses to be quelled so easily. Amity didn't prove herself by simply escaping; she needed a test, even if it was ultimately revoked. Her beloved has made it clear the frozen wasteland is nothing short of horror even among horror, all the more reason for the violet-haired woman to search longer and harder for even the slightest hints of treasure. Such loot is buried somewhere, trusting Amity's reports to not lead her astray. Why would her wife betray her in possibly the worst way possible?
'Come on, she was looking for tags, not treasure. Just focus and find the nearest cave. Again,' she groans internally, shaking her head before finally making her way through the endless storm once again. 'You can find it, and with that treasure, you'll become a legend! Then maybe Amity can shut up about me not doing enough. We'll be so rich we won't have to work for a hundred years, I think that's a good enough source of gold, yes?'
Even as the heating across her body wanes, the three-eyed demon refuses to let herself submit to the cold. If the former capital wants to keep its treasure secured, then it will need more than a storm to stop her. Every second passing by is just one more second she needs to finally breach the land and find the ruins beneath. Yet another Slitherbeast den makes itself clear to her, her vision blurring from the snow as she marches forward, this time using her claws and tail to keep to the ceiling. The soft snores of a Slitherbeast family of five, maybe six, mark their locations, all blocking off a tunnel leading deep underground.
'Finally, it's... something,' the explorer sighs, hating that she can't become picky.
Just crawling above yields no positive results for the intruder, forced to crawl extra slowly to avoid causing excess noise. Even the subtlest of crackling ice could alert the adults, the babies just waiting for a reason to wake up and cause havoc for their caregivers. Icicles only make avoiding sound all the more complicated, using a heat-generating potion to hopefully melt the obstacles without alerting them anymore than necessary.
What she doesn't account for is the sudden temperature change to weaken the ceiling as well, loosening her grip just long enough to fall between the babies. The following thud awakens them all, three demon-consuming maws opening to reveal blue, fury-filled eyes staring directly into Boscha's.
There were indeed six Slitherbeasts, and three of them were adults. Her only certainty is that the young had no intention of hurting her; their parents felt no such reserves for the danger to their young. Five potions were lost in that one encounter, and now she's got a mere third of what she initially brought.
'Damnit! Either I starve to death or fight my way out and potentially die! How am I-?! NO!! Just... Think for a moment,' she reminds herself, albeit barely. 'You wanted to find out what's down here. Maybe there's a way out! Check your options, and maybe, just maybe, the treasure you seek is somewhere down here. That's why you came down here, right?'
She can't afford to go all-out, especially now. At least she has a lead, even if said lead is too vague to be of any use, but it's something. Rock, ice, and more of the two follow, occasionally coated with snow that became apart of the scenery. Her desire for treasure, even a single gold coin, will be more than worthwhile, proof she's more powerful than most would dare, especially since she's a Blight Family member by proxy.
'The twins wouldn't know diamonds from polished ice! Why would anyone else not try to claim glory?' she ponders, the heat still radiating from her body allowing her to pass the icy terrain with minimal issue. 'None! They just... Wait a minute...'
The stone beneath her slowly takes on the form of bricks, the frozen never quite disappearing completely as the Triclops scans the corridor. Doors, large ones capable of housing Slitherbeasts. Candlesticks and chandeliers of the finest crystals she's ever seen prepare to light the area, a simple fire spell providing light to the otherwise lifeless structure. At long last, Boscha is able to breathe without issue, her mission now one step closer to turning successful. For once, the Slitherbeasts were of use to her.
What catches the youngest Mali's interest, however, is a larger, frozen door toward the end of the corridor. The buildup of permafrost and fallen ice chunks alone confirms something long forgotten awaits discovery, her drive to push onward stronger than ever before. Not even Slitherbeasts can be heard sneaking up on her this time, glancing around for traps only to find not even a swinging blade or a touch-sensitive net. To her it just means her exit and pilfering will be easier to pull off, assuming she escapes.
Boscha is certain such a matter can wait, preparing a potion to remove her latest obstacle.