The Dungeon Slayer: A LitRPG Level-Up Adventure (The Dungeon Slayer Series Book 1)

by Konrad Ryan

  Gerald finally broke the silence. “The fault is not yours.”

  “I know.”

  “I was speaking to this one.” Gerald gestured to Bunta. “To you, Tad, I can see you have already found one to place the blame upon. But let me say this. The fault lies with no one. Slaying is inherently a dangerous profession. All know the dangers before they enter the stone-clad calamities.” Gerald paused for a moment; a look of sympathy swept across his face as he looked again to Bunta. “But even if the fault is not your own, that knowledge won’t heal the wound or give reprieve to your wounded conscience. I know the feeling all too well. I, too, have lost companions in the depth of dungeons whose faces I cannot forget.” His voice was gentle, yet had a strength, a wisdom of knowing.

  The uncomfortable silence took hold in the room.

  Gerald was wrong, he hadn’t been there. It was Gruff’s fault. Gruff’s fault three of their party died. Worse yet, it was Gruff’s fault, however unintentional, that both Tad and Bunta sat there in the comfortable office. Even had Tad died instead of Gruff, Tad didn’t think Gruff could’ve gotten Bunta out of the dungeon fast enough. Gruff wasn’t fast enough. He would have walked out of that dungeon alone. Tad and Bunta lived. Not because Gruff had sacrificed himself, but because he existed. Because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. His death seemed so meaningless, and yet the two lived because of it. What Tad and Bunta did from here on out would give meaning to Gruff’s death. And Tad hated that fact. Hated the weight on his back. How could you do anything meaningful enough to justify someone’s death? You couldn’t.

  The lie sounded hollow, even to Tad’s own mind.

  “Last we met, I inquired if you felt any changes. You may not have before, but you have since.” Gerald said it not accusingly, but more matter-of-factly. “Your body has changed tremendously. Gone is the skinny kid with bushy, unkempt hair. You’ve changed, Tad. I’d like to know why. Or how.” Gerald picked his words carefully, as if to not call Tad a liar.

  It surprised Tad how much changed in the brief period since their last visit. Three days. He had allocated all of his strength points in this last dungeon, but here, wearing normal clothes for the first time, Tad could appreciate the changes. He was bulky, but not fat. Strong but not overly muscular, with a sleek air of deadliness. It was an odd combination. How was he supposed to explain it to his mom? Or his brother Liam?

  Gerald cleared his throat and brought Tad back from his thoughts. Bunta’s eyes bored a hole into Tad’s side.

  “Oh… Yeah. Now I’ve noticed some changes.” Tad said, still not sure how much to reveal. Gerald seemed nice enough, but Tad feared the repercussions of speaking to Gerald about the matter. Powerful people didn’t always make the best choice for the people their decisions affected the most. Gerald seemed to sense his hesitance.

  “Perhaps if I share with you our current understanding of why some people are reborn as civilians and others as creators, it might serve as a bridge for this conversation.”

  Tad wasn’t sure how it could be relevant, but relented anyway.

  “I would ask that you not speak to others about the topics we discuss.” Gerald waited for both of their nods. “What we know is that humans have essences just like those you collect from monsters in dungeons.”

  Tad nodded, but Bunta beside him took in a startled breath, his eyes wide at the revelation. A curious look passed across Gerald’s face as his eyes fixed on Tad’s face.

  “That doesn’t seem to be news to you.”

  Crap. Tad had forgotten how perceptive this old man was.

  “Then how are we any different from those monsters!” Bunta said, almost jumping out of his seat.

  “That is a brilliant question.” Gerald said each word with great care. “The simple answer is that, perhaps, we are not different from them. That we are the same. Perhaps, long ago, a mating pair of humans once stepped out from one of these different dimensions. The slightly longer answer is that we differ somewhat from them, as you cannot harvest human essences with your standard soul lantern.”

  “There are, however, special soul lanterns that can harvest even human souls. We at the DDD do all we can to acquire and destroy each of these devices.”

  Raekast’s Fang. Its existence burned brightly in Tad’s mind, but he controlled his face. He couldn’t show any recognition. Couldn’t allow Raekast’s Fang to be destroyed. But wait. If these devices existed… who made them? And who… or what… was using them? Gerald nodded with a wry smile on his face.

  “There are beings out there who kill humans and use their essences, just as we use the essence of monsters.”

  A strangled noise escaped Tad’s throat at how matter-of-factly Gerald just delivered that earth shattering revelation.

  “But that shouldn’t be news to you. You, as slayers, invade and kill these beings in their own realms to protect mankind from their destructive potential. In fact, from what you have told me about the dungeon you have just defeated, you met such a being who had consumed human souls and had become much stronger as a result.”

  Bosses. Tad couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The public had many theories on what the dungeons were and about their inhabitants. But he’d never heard or read anything like this. How could Gerald just tell them all of this? Wasn’t he worried they would tell others? Not to mention that Gerald was wrong. The slayers still had their essence, while the boss used them as puppets. Maybe it consumed some portion of the essence, but most were intact. Gerald’s smile widened, almost as if he was reading Tad’s thoughts. Like Kothar-wa-Khasis could. Tad felt a chill run the course of his spine. Could he?

  “I can tell you these things because even if you told others, no one would believe you.” Gerald said, almost like a challenge. “There are already too many theories out there. In fact, you could find others who know the truth, if you know where to look.”

  The scariest part was that Tad couldn’t dismiss the possibility that the old man could read his mind. If humans really were like monsters, then surely they could have all the powers that monsters could have. Hadn’t he already seen that with the lizard blacksmith? His spikes had worked on monster and humans alike. A second chill ran down his spine.

  “Raekast was one such being who escaped her confines and entered our realm. That doesn’t happen often, that monsters escape dungeons, but the ones that do are ungodly powerful. Raekast fed upon humans gaining strength with each essence she absorbed. To what end, we can only guess.”

  Raekast’s Fang had a similar ability and was only the first piece of the set.

  “Dungeons used to be a rare occurrence. Contrary to common knowledge, we have been rebirthing people since the dawn of time. A small group of people would hunt and slay the inhabitants of dungeons that appeared. To keep our world safe. Slayers. But Raekast changed that. By opening Titan, we believe she somehow connected our world to a larger network of dungeons. No one has ever returned from Titan to confirm our theory, but we believe that is why dungeons are now so prolific.” Gerald paused for a moment, as if trying to sort his thoughts.

  “Forgive an old man his rambling, it seems we have strayed from our original topic. Back to human essences. The rebirth device has the capability of unlocking the latent potential of human souls, or essences. Originally made by beings within the dungeons for a distinctive purpose. To unlock the latent potential of their food, to maximize their own strength upon feeding. I told you, Tad, during your orientation that Charles Tidwell found the first rebirth globe on the ravaged continent of South America. While he did find a rebirth globe, he did not find the first one. Humanity has had access to rebirth for much longer than that. In the right circles. The story goes that long ago, monsters caused the wrong human to be reborn. Into a creator rank slayer. This creator defeated the boss and stole the device. The rest is history.”

  “So, you can see why you growing stronger, Tad, is a curiosity. You were reborn with no potential. Like the rest of us, you should have been stagnant at y
our full power of zero. But you grow stronger, evolve, almost like a dungeon boss who feeds upon human essence.”

  Tad didn’t like this sudden change in the conversation’s direction. The hurt look on Bunta’s face practically accused him of eating Gruff.

  “Woah, hang on a second, I didn’t eat anybody!” Tad never thought he’d have to say that sentence. “It’s true I started at zero, but I get stronger upon defeating monsters, not eating them. Or humans. After I kill enough monsters, I get stronger.”

  A slight smile appeared, and disappeared just as fast on Gerald’s face, Tad almost missed it.

  The old man tricked him! He’d used Tad’s relationship with Bunta, created a misunderstanding between the two that Tad wanted to repair. This crafty old man had gotten him to reveal the details of his powers without even asking a single question.

  Gerald opened a drawer and pulled out the familiar black orb with silver knobs and pushed it directly in front of Tad.

  “Shall we see how much stronger you’ve become? How about I go first?”

  Suddenly strength cascaded from the old man. His aura was deadly, suffocating. Like the mosquito boss, like the lizard boss, but higher. His aura made every hair stand on end. Bunta leapt from his seat and was as far away from the old man as he could be without leaving the car dungeon. Danger poured from the old man. Tad hadn’t moved. He felt like a cat in a cage, but the aura paralyzed him. Like when he’d first fought the mosquito boss. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Gerald’s intimidation outmatched Tad’s courage.

  The long eyebrows of the old man wriggled on his face as he rested his hands on the two silver spheres.

  Tad watched the orb intently. Surely with the strength that was pouring out of him, the old man was creator rank. Or at least the second strongest warlord rank. The orb went from black to brown to red to green before settling on blue. Blue meant champion. The old man was this strong and yet only a champion… Tad didn’t know what to say.

  After a moment, the old man turned the device around toward Tad so he could see the white numbers. 24122. After a moment the orb settled back to the pitch-black, its resting state. Wordlessly, Gerald pushed the device to Tad.

  Tad’s stomach crawled with ants. Even more so than at his original rebirth. How much stronger had he gotten in these last three days and two dungeons? It was like taking a test he hadn’t prepared for.

  Tad rested his hands on the cool silver orbs. The black globe shot through a stream of colors. Blue, red, green, gold, and purple flashed in the compact office. Finally, the orb settled back to black. Pure black, just like before. Titan black. Bunta watched with wide eyes as the eerie white number appeared on the front of the orb. Zero. A big white zero.

  “Very interesting. You have gained some strength. Your body has changed, and I’ve seen you heal with my own eyes. A blood healer, no doubt. But your power score remains zero. And what is more mysterious is that I still can’t feel your power. It’s as if you don’t exist. I see you with my eyes, but I cannot feel you. Cannot gauge if you are weak or strong.”

  Bunta spoke up at that. “I’ve had to guess his strength based on how he moves.”

  Even though he’d gotten stronger? Tad could definitely feel the strength of both Bunta and Gerald. Could they really not feel him at all?

  Another interminable stretch of silence. Tad had never been so uncomfortable in his life. Gerald’s face showed no expression. Just what was the old geezer thinking?

  “I would like to keep tabs on you, Tad. Would it be all right if I were to visit from time to time, to monitor your progress? I’m afraid I must insist.”

  The question was a formality. He would check up on Tad no matter what he said. Tad was just glad that Gerald hadn’t asked for anything more extreme.

  Tad had enough of playing the good slayer. It was his turn to get something from the conversation. “On one condition. Call off your dogs. The ones that have been following me around and paying my party members for information about me.”

  For the first time since meeting him, Gerald’s face showed an expression of genuine surprise, which quickly twisted as his countenance darkened.

  Another lengthy pause. This one thicker. More potent. Gerald said his next words carefully. Cautiously.

  “I have sent no one to follow you, Tad…”

  Epilogue

  ‘Victorious.’ ‘Hope confirmed.’ ‘Road to Titan.’ That’s what the news was calling it. Footage of Tad’s tormentor, Brad Colville, having emerged from his first dungeon last night with his team of top rank American slayers. Brad had been the only creator in the party, but it hadn’t seemed to matter. They had come out of the dungeon without a scratch on them. Media followed them to their luxury cars, showering them with praise and questions. They wore designer clothes and sponsored gear. Why did they even have cars? Couldn’t they fly? Were creators really that much more powerful than warlords?

  More than that, the lady on the news reported that Brad officially accepted the position of skyscrubber. He promised to clear the skies daily, if not more often. The world celebrated it as a splendid victory, anything besides the unreliability of Hyde. But to Tad, a clear sky became the symbol of injustice. Rebirth had given Brad everything. The power to protect himself. To protect his friends. And the freedom absolute power brought with it. He hadn’t needed to earn it. He didn’t even seem to appreciate it! Didn’t appreciate that his power was the reason the other slayers lived. The smug look on his face in the videos sent Tad’s temper flaring.

  Brad would never feel the emptiness that nearly consumed Tad. The profound sense of loss.

  The injustice was too much.

  If power was virtue in this world, then Tad would become virtuous. If there was no justice in this world, then Tad would create it. He was only a soldier rank slayer now, but when he climbed to the heights of power that Brad held, he would hold them all responsible. Brad, The Defector, and anyone else who used their power to abuse and control. He would hold them accountable. There would be justice.

  Tad tongued his smooth gums where his molars hadn’t grown back. His anger flared anew. He couldn’t do those things now. He lacked the strength. But he could show Gruff the right way to be a dungeon leader. He could make the hard choices. The right choices. He could protect those who followed him. Bring them home to safety, even if he had to sacrifice someone. Someone like Scar. Gruff had been weak and put the lives of his friends in front of the party. He was too soft. Tad wouldn’t be soft. He would harden himself until he could make the right choices. The tough choices.

  There was too much that Tad didn’t know. Luck. Luck was the only reason Bunta was alive. If Gerald hadn’t brought a healer…

  Tad shook his head. Bunta was alive. But he hadn’t been when Tad stepped through the dungeon exit, as the darkness had once again surrounded him. The thought shot Tad to his feet. How had he escaped the darkness? The being with infinite power had been waiting for him. His memory was fuzzy. Emotions had run so high.

  A musical jingle played inside Tad’s mind as text scrawled across his vision.

  *Congratulations! Your reward: ‘Zero knowledge’ has arrived!*

  A small book about the size of Tad’s hand appeared in the air and clattered to the floor. Strange script covered its surface. It was like the symbols on Tad’s cloak, but the letters spun. They broke down to their most basic components and reformed until Tad could read the words.

  *Path to Zero.*

  The letters glowed in waves. Tad leafed through the pages. They were blank. All except the first page. Dots and lines covered the front page. As Tad watched, the lines and dots wriggled, moved as if alive. They swirled in a spiral until they created a vortex. Suddenly Tad stood in a familiar place. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t been sucked in; he just was somewhere else.

  He stood in the amber sunlight, red arrows of his level-up program pointed toward a cave. This was his soldier trial. A dark-haired figure, humanoid yet not, strode through the grass toward
the small cave, purposefully. He held a long, wicked obsidian blade that looked very much like Raekast’s Fang in two hands. The man didn’t look too much older than Tad. Suddenly Tad was in the cave, his stealth vision activated. The figure deftly dismantled the toothblender inside.

  Tad was in the underwater cave. The lobster-pig met a bloody demise as the square-eyed figure pushed himself from the water where he stood and fought on the surface of the water. The figure stabbed deep into flesh each time the lobster pig attacked.

  The fight against King Wraithford had been a blinding flash of weapons. This Wraithford gleamed yellow, not green, and fought desperately as the lad overwhelmed him. The man deflected the huge axes skillfully with that gleaming black blade. Wounds sprung across the ghoulish spectres’ entire body until the dark-haired figure ran up the length of a missed axe swing and stabbed his sword through Wraithford’s glowing eyes. An error sound rang through Tad’s mind as suddenly he sat back in his living room.

  *Cannot view what you have not completed.*

  The last two fights were blocked! Had Zero progressed straight to warrior, skipping soldier all together? Or had he just gone for the double stat bonus? Tad suddenly regretted not pushing further in his own soldier trial. He wanted to see that person fight more. His proficiency and deadliness were mesmerizing to watch. Was this really Zero? The being that waited in the darkness who climbed to the pinnacle of power? Could Tad really climb to be that strong?

  Deadly, the figure ruthlessly destroyed his opposition. Tad couldn’t help but be impressed at the man’s cold efficiency. The book was titled ‘Path to Zero.’ Tad now walked that path. He couldn’t help but wonder how many walked the same path. How many fell short. How many died in the pursuit of power? Would Tad? Another sound rang through Tad’s mind.