by Wolfe Locke
The projection ended, and the screen rolled back up as the lights turned on.
Notification: Quest Granted – Each member of the party must collect 10 tokens to advance to the final phase.
Reward: Transition into the Third Phase. 30 Experience, 10 Sol.
"Alright. Looks like we’ve got no time to work out any sort of strategy,” said Paul, a hint of concern on his face as the gym door started to bulge forward as if pushed by a giant force on the other side.
Seraph knew a bit more about survival in the dungeon. He knew that standing out in the open like this was a poor idea. He didn’t want to die either, and poor preparation was an easy way to meet a messy end. "We should retreat to the bathroom. It should be a smaller space, so we can defend it easier and not get swarmed by any monsters that show up. It’ll let us set up a kill point that everyone can go back and forth from to even out any experience gains.”
Paul nodded, examining Seraph and feeling that there was something more to the answers and his son's sudden insights, but he couldn’t quite put it into words. He hesitated. “OK, hold what you got. Everybody, run to the men’s bathroom. Let’s go get in front of this thing."
Chapter 8: Betrayal
* * *
The five of them ran straight into the men's bathroom. The sound of their shoes squeaking as they ran across the court mixed with the constant pounding echoes coming from the entryway. Alexander struggled to keep up the pace that the others set and lagged behind them. The clock shone brightly in red as the numbers ticked down, getting ever closer to zero.
As they all ran, their focus was forward on their goal of escaping the pending danger. Afraid to see what they would find if they looked. Afraid to see what they were running from—except for Seraph. He saw that he was the only one who wasn’t afraid, noticing that with each booming blow against the door, the plaster surrounding the metal door frame fell off in pieces. The closer to zero the clock got, the bigger the pieces were that fell.
As they all passed through the swinging doorway into the bathroom, Seraph instantly regretted the decision to direct the group to seek shelter inside it when he realized how small the area was. Things would be cramped, and he was not the only one to come to that conclusion. He noticed the turned heads and glares coming his way from Alexander and Jack, while Erin was unwilling to look at him, and his father had other concerns on his mind. It was clear to him that the group regretted their decision to listen to his advice.
“So, what's the plan here, champ?” questioned Jack, an obvious edge to his voice.
Seraph wasn’t sure what the plan would be. This was a bathroom connected to a basketball court in a gymnasium. He had assumed the bathroom would either be bigger, or it would connect to an adjacent locker room. Instead, he was looking at the same thing everyone else was. Two porcelain sinks and a cracked mirror between them, a dual urinal against the wall, a lone bathroom stall, and a locker full of sports equipment with a padlock on it.
“I don’t know,” Seraph admitted, returning the glares with a glare of his own. “I thought there would be a locker room back here, and we would then be able to build up some quick defenses and work on kiting whatever is coming our way. I thought we could use the environment to our advantage, but I don’t see how we can do that now.”
Paul caught the frustration in his son’s voice. He had no intention of letting anyone in the group die, and on some level, Seraph knew that. The danger was not unbeatable. Seraph was angry with himself for making a decision that ended up being wrong. Though he knew that a tutorial wasn’t a place for a party wipe, it didn’t change the fact that the group was about to have a very difficult time in the name of growth.
“That’s why there's a chain of command, kiddo,” said Paul. “Let this be a good learning experience. You undercut my authority after the group agreed to let me lead them to safety and made the decision that led us here. It’s not on you, though. This is on me. I let it happen, and as group leader that falls on me.”
"Don't worry, everyone. I’ve got a plan to get us all out of here. I promise," Paul said as he addressed the group. Truthfully, he didn't have a plan yet, but as the leader, it fell on him to make sure morale didn't completely dissipate. But before he could say anything else or give any kind of pep talk to boost morale and get people ready to fight, a loud crash could be heard from the gymnasium.
They had run out of time.
Switching gears and switching roles, Paul turned to yell at the group. “Weapons out!" he ordered as he pulled his own long knife from a sheath on his leg and overturned the sports locker on its side to provide some cover.
Seraph matched the action by pulling his mace from his belt loop. Seraph had to admit, his father cut quite the intimidating figure. Something about the way he carried himself and the aura he cast let others know this man had been a killer. Something Seraph recognized and respected.
Alexander was the next to willingly come forward bearing his weapon, surprising Paul and Seraph when he pulled a short metal rod from his pocket and pressed a switch that caused the rod to extend, ending on a point. "Pocket spear," he explained, shrugging sheepishly. "I don't really know how to use it, but I figure I can just jab a lot. It’s better than sitting around and crying, hoping that somebody is going to save me."
Paul nodded in approval but inwardly groaned, reminded of the fact that these guys were all rookies. "Sure, that’ll work. Just try to be careful you don't stab any of us. Most of you are new to holding a weapon, so try to be careful. No flashy movements or power moves. This isn't television, and you'll just hurt yourself or someone else."
He then looked at the other two, his expression changing to one of hardened anger. "Well, what’s the problem, you two? Where are your weapons?"
Erin looked downward, unable to meet his gaze as she wrapped her fingers around each other in a show of anxiety. "I've got a claw. I think I wear it like a baseball glove, but I don't feel comfortable getting that close up. I’m not a fighter, and I’m not strong like the rest of you."
Seraph looked at her arm down toward her wrist where a leather strap wrapped around her forearm that ended in multiple blades. A Cat’s Claw he guessed. It was a weapon he was more used to. Far more used to than the mace in his hand, in fact. If she wasn’t going to defend herself, he had no issues with taking it from her later.
"Fine," said Paul, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "You can stay with my son toward the back. Just make sure you keep him safe. And as for you," he said as he pointed a finger at Jack, "where’s your weapon?"
"Yeah, about that. I don't actually have one," answered Jack. "They gave me a defensive piece instead of a weapon," he explained as he opened his shirt to show dark chain mail with razor edges. "Basically, anything that attacks me, is going to get hurt too. It’ll help shield me from harm. Your kid can hide behind me too, it's fine.”
Paul glared, furious at the level of cowardice he was seeing between these two, but whatever score he was keeping, this was not the time to settle it.
Seraph tried not to be too obvious by rolling his eyes. While technically correct, thornmail did reflect damage back on the attacker, but this wasn’t thornmail, it was razormail—a weapon of the melee fighter, and a way to inflict additional damage as bodies crashed into each other and maneuvered in close combat. This was no shield; it was a weapon.
"Alright, new plan," said Paul, "because wearing razor blades isn’t going to help us right now. So, Jack, listen up. I'm counting on you. You and Erin will be in the back with Luca. Protect him. If anything happens to him, you’ll have to answer to me. I'll be up front, taking the brunt of the attack, and Alexander will be supporting me as much as he can from the rear with the reach of his spear.
Paul continued shifting his gaze. "Alexander, if there’s something I can't kill, I’ll be pitching it back to you to pin down with your spear. Hopefully, the lot of you can finish off whatever I don’t kill."
Paul turned to the other man with his han
d pointed like a knife. "And, Jack, just milling around in the back isn't going to cut it. You can grab that mop over there and snap it in two. It might not be much, but it’s better than just sitting on your hands, and you’ll at least have something to stab them with."
Seraph couldn't fault the plan on such short notice, but he had no intention of waiting safely in the back. The dungeon by nature punished those who avoided growth and rewarded those who dared. That was the mark of the warrior—the willingness to engage the enemy—and Seraph was willing. He would not allow himself to fall behind due to the well-meaning actions of his father, who didn't seem to realize that the action he suggested would do nothing but endanger him, if his growth did not keep up with the demands of the dungeon.
It was a mistake Seraph had seen many families make before as he recalled a memory of the screaming families he had separated when he had chosen those he thought would survive in the dungeon, leaving or killing the rest.
A loud scream reverberated through the gym as a monster flew through the air and landed with a sickening wet thud on the ground directly in front of them. As blood began to spread and pool from the splattered corpse, the moment of truth was at hand.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" screamed Erin as she pressed her body against the far wall of the bathroom, curling up. "This can't be happening. I make coffee for a living; I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She started sobbing, throwing her weapon off as she ran into the stall and locked it behind her. They would have to figure that one out later.
Paul gave her a look of contempt—a look Seraph appreciated that his father could give. He quickly banished the look as his father's face was replaced with an expression of grim worry. Whatever he was going to say to her was quickly cut short as the sound of monsters fighting each other to fit through the gymnasium doorway echoed and filled the air.
His father grasped his knife and motioned with his hands for the rest of them to hunker down and be quiet. Seraph ignored it as he pushed forward to look at the swarm of monsters as his father tried to grab him and haul him back. He needed to know what came through that door. All their lives might depend on it. What he saw brought him some relief. Short and furry Kobolds, their faces long with a rat-like face on skinny pale bodies, covered in short, matted fur slick with grease and grime. They walked hunched over on two legs, with long arms that end in clawed hands featuring three fingers. Basic fodder.
Seraph counted twenty-two of the rat-faced monsters, but they were not the primary threat that stood between them and continuing onward. It was the Gigas that stood at the splintered doorway. A giant man-monster, it stood twice as tall as a regular person, weighing at least hundreds of pounds—all of which were thick, corded muscle. Though it appeared slow, the monster was deadly. The force of its blows were the same as being struck by a moving vehicle, and its fists were devastating. It was a monster that Seraph, with all his experience, did not believe they could defeat. They were without a measure of luck, and the use of skills that Seraph did not believe the group possessed.
He felt hands on his shoulders pulling him back into the relative safety of the bathroom.
He turned and looked to see Paul and Alexander looking at him like he was crazy. “What are you doing?” asked Paul. “You could have been killed. What part of listen do you not understand? You need to stay behind me where I know you’re safe.” From behind them, Jack tried to hide a grin as he snickered.
Seraph looked at his father, his own face just as grim, and he hesitated to do or say more. He had not wanted to expose himself more than he already had, but he felt he had little choice.
“I needed to know what was coming at us, so I could advise you. Those things on the other side of this wall, they’re called Kobolds. They’re nothing. They’re trash, and we won’t have a problem killing all of them, but that monster that leads them, it’s a Gigas. That’s something that’s going to be hard to kill. If we get trapped in here and it connects an attack, it’ll likely kill all of us. It’s going to be difficult to hurt it too. It has a tough outer skin that’s hard to penetrate.”
Paul looked at him suspiciously, as did the other two men. “Just how exactly do you know this, Luca?”
In another life, Seraph knew of an old saying that could be applied here. In the absence of a good lie, tell the truth—or at least parts of it. “We don’t have time for that now, but I promise I’ll tell you everything when we do.”
Paul put his hands on his wrist, and Seraph’s eyes lit up in anger as Paul raised his voice, “No, I don’t think I will. Tell me now. Tell me why I should trust you on this.”
Seraph responded, “I have the Restart ability. It’s a super-rare ability, so I'm discouraged from mentioning it without good justification. I’ve already used it a few times. When I die, I go back in time to certain points in my adventures. This is one of them. I’ve already been through this battle before. Though I can only go back to a set point once.”
Paul seemed to contemplate the viability of the answer, and he simply nodded. He would go for it, for now, as would the other men. They might not believe him, but they had few reasons to doubt that what he said was true.
The look Paul gave Seraph let him know that he had his doubts. He had clearly noticed a few contradictions and things that didn’t make sense. But this was not the time to figure out the reason for half-truths and lies.
"Guys! Hey, guys! This has been a nice little chit-chat you all are having, it really is, but they're here!" screamed Jack as the first group of Kobolds approached, crossing the threshold and leading away from the gymnasium and into the bathroom where they were hidden.
Paul gripped his knife tightly as they all braced themselves. Erin stumbled out of the stall sobbing and went to hide beneath the sinks as she rocked back-and-forth, unable to aid the party as she quaked with fear and shame.
Eyes moving, Seraph watched as Alexander took up position behind Paul. Something was up with Jack, though. Seraph could tell by the way he was shifting his eyes. He was a man looking for a way out. Like a rabbit looking for a chance to run. The weak always had such a look. Seraph moved to back up Alexander, his father making a wordless protest that died in his throat as he realized the safest place for his son was right beside him. Even if it was fighting at his side.
As the first of the Kobolds ran into the lockers that Paul had pushed over, their movement halted. Their numbers could not easily navigate the wedge that had been created with the bulwark and the entryway. The group couldn’t help but smile as the monsters spoke in their strange language, appearing to curse each other as they tripped up each other’s movements. Animals.
Seraph knew that they would make short work of the Kobolds. It was never a question to him. Though the Kobolds were monsters, they were weak, unarmed, and unarmored. The only real danger they posed were their numbers, and their tails could be swung to try to knock a person off balance. None of which mattered as they funneled together, unable to use the very things that made them dangerous. The idea to seek refuge in the bathroom had paid off after all.
The first Kobold tried to bridge the gap by forcing its way through the bulwark, its jaws salivating in hunger as its clawed hand reached over the overturned lockers. As it tried to pull itself over to get to the other side, Paul thrust his knife forward and upwards with deadly purpose. The knife cut through flesh and lodged into the creature’s eye, killing it instantly, but was lodged in the fleshy membrane of the monster’s eyeball. As the body fell, the knife fell with it.
Alexander worked to cover the gap as Paul struggled to dislodge his knife. Unlike Paul, Alexander wasn’t looking for kills as he thrust his spear out, again and again, looking to stab and injure the mass of Kobolds in front of him. His were not measured hits, but rather desperate attacks. As much as he could, Alexander used his strength to lift and throw some of the monsters back for Jack and Seraph to kill.
Paul realized he had over committed in his own attack as he watched Alexander struggl
e but somehow single-handily keep the pressing monsters at bay. Paul vowed to not over-commit again as the knife finally came free, giving a discreet nod of thanks to Alexander for keeping the rat-faced monsters off him. Alexander shot him a thumbs-up, and the movement was enough to distract both of them as one of the Kobolds was able to push their defenses, slashing with its claws at Paul’s face. Its fangs aimed for the neck, only to be met by a premature end as Seraph’s mace crashed down on its skull, caving in a side of its face. It fell lifelessly to the ground with an almost shocked look on its face.
A metallic clang hit the ground where the Kobold had fallen, and Seraph saw a bronze token—much like what could be found in an arcade—had fallen to the ground. He noted it, but he couldn’t safely collect it yet.
Both men turned to look at Seraph, surprised that he had been able to intervene like that. Seraph yelled at the two. “Pull yourself out of it. There's still a bunch of these things we’ve got to kill. Just try to police up as many of the tokens as you can. They’re going to be our ticket out of here.”
The three worked in symmetry as the other two members of their party largely remained uninvolved, Jack occasionally hitting the Kobolds he was able to get free hits on, and Erin had at least quit sobbing.
They continued their grim work until all the Kobolds were dead, their bodies scattered around the floor slick with blood. Their own bodies were covered in filth and sweat, a deep fatigue setting into their bones, and of the Gigas, there was not a word or sound. As Seraph peeked out and saw it, he found it still right at the doorway leading out of the Gymnasium, up into the rest of the school.