She knew that dangers lurked on the road, and that she was just a girl and needed to be careful.
That was why, when she heard the sound of raised voices somewhere ahead, she darted into the bushes and hid.
She stayed there for a few minutes, holding her books, until she realized the voices weren’t going anywhere.
Silently, she crept across the road and up an embankment, and there she saw the source of the voices.
A group of people had made camp some way off the road. Men and women, some of them dressed in leather armor, some sitting by whetstones and sharpening their blades.
Heroes? Had Beno opened his dungeon already?
The longer she watched, the more she realized that these people weren’t heroes. She could tell by the things they talked about.
Bandits. These were bandits brazenly camping near the travelers’ road.
Oh well. Not her concern; the guards at the nearby town would get wind of them, and they would come to see them off. The bandits weren’t stupid, and they wouldn’t risk fighting the guards.
She was about to leave when she spotted something. A sight that chilled her blood completely.
It couldn’t be!
Suddenly, memories flashed in her mind like lightning. Memories of a horrible day in the years gone by, when her brothers had returned without Trevor.
When they’d explained what they’d learned about her father, and how they’d foolishly gone to the bandit camp.
She remembered something Bill had said now. She pictured his watering eyes, heard his shaky voice.
“The leader had a missing leg and a patch over his right eye. He was the one who killed Trevor.”
Vedetta looked at the camp now, her blood cold but her skin burning up with anger.
She stared at the bandits, and at one bandit in particular.
CHAPTER 31
As I watched the heroes wrack their puny minds trying to solve both door riddles, I should have been perfecting my cackle.
I didn’t feel like it, though.
You see, even though I had already sent the rogue and the bard to the great heroes’ guild in the sky (or do heroes go to one of the hells? Good question) I didn’t feel great.
The Whistling Gary Cavern of Fight Kill had taken its first casualties, and let me tell you, it hit me in my non-existent gut.
I had always, always known that the monsters I created would meet their end at a hero's sword or ranger’s bow. The academy had prepared me for that. As a core, most of my human emotion should have left me, anyway.
But here I was, mourning the fate of a bogbadug, stone dwarf troll, and two fire beetles. Mercifully, the fallen beetles weren’t Fight and Kill, my originals.
Even so, watching the creatures die from my core room, I was all too aware of how removed from all of this I was. Sure, I had built this place up from nothing, and that had taken a lot of hard planning, hard work, and hard delegation.
They were the ones who would die for it, though. My clanmates. My beetles, trolls, maybe even my kobolds. They were being spawned into a dungeon where, sooner or later, they were doomed to die.
Wow, I was in a morose mood.
To cheer myself up I cast my core vision to the entrance, where the rogue lay dead in the pit. He was in a weird shape. Sort of like the letter ‘S’ in the way he’d landed in the pitfall. It amused me for some reason.
Next, I swept my vision east, to the scene of the battle where my beautiful bogbadug had killed a bard. Not only that, but he’d smashed his lute. Good on you, bogbadug!
This battle left little opposition for the heroes in the rooms ahead. A few more beetles, some traps. I’d banked most of my firepower in the loot room, where Gary was waiting.
Should I use some essence to create more creatures?
No, I still had this feeling I should hold off until the final battle. Right now, the hero party was reduced to a barbarian, a mage, and two younger guys.
Gary would tear the recruits’ heads off without blinking. I was worried about the other two, though. Gary’s only support would be 4 fire beetles, two of which were Fight and Kill, who had leveled up to level 4 [warriors].
My boss monster would need support, but the timing was crucial.
Here was the thing; when the heroes got past the riddle doors and found the loot room, they would get into battle mode. They would spot the loot chest and their instincts would fire, and they’d be more in the moment than before.
Whereas right now, the idiots were still trying to solve a riddle. They weren’t thinking about fighting.
So, I did something dangerous.
I hopped from my core room, and onto the pedestal in the entrance room.
It’s unbelievably risky for a core to leave his core room when heroes are around. I mean, I’m a gem. You might not realize it because I act so tough, but I’m far, far from indestructible. Just a few swings from a sword and wham! I’m shattered over the floor.
So you can imagine I felt a little nervous, floating there in the entrance room. I was so close to the heroes I could hear their muttering come through the tunnels ahead.
I had to do this, though. If I created a creature in my core room, his only route to the heroes would be to go to the loot room. My clanmates can’t pedestal-hop like me.
Creating them right here, my creatures would be able to sneak up on the heroes. This was necessary.
Wasting no time, I cycled through my monster list.
Monsters
Spider [Cost 15]
Leech [Cost 15]
Fire beetle [Cost 20 ]
Kobold [Cost 35]
Angry Elemental Jelly Cube [Cost 75]
Sinister Owl [Cost 120]
Stone Dwarf Troll [Cost 180]
Bogbadug [Cost 200]
Now you probably remember I only had 380 essence points, and they wouldn’t re-generate while the heroes were around. I had to use them with all the wisdom of a core.
No point summoning a bogbadug, since I had already seen mine die. Then again, he did kill the bard…
Nah, they’d be prepared for a frog monster now. I needed something new. It didn’t have to be anything too fancy, just a monster that would give them something to think about.
Ah.
Create sinister owl x2
As was standard procedure by now, light spun around blah blah blah until it became two owls. Two rather large owls with beaks that could poke holes in steel, and talons that would shred a stone troll to pieces.
And let me tell you…they were indeed sinister. Each of them had one eyebrow raised so that I felt like I was being judged. It was unnerving.
One of them swiveled its head 180- degrees to look at me.
“Right,” I said. “First off, that’s creepy as hell. Cut it out.”
The other did the same head swiveling.
“Situation report,” it said.
“Enemy intelligence. Locations, weaponry, spells,” said the other.
Wow. These guys weren’t messing around. It looked like I had made the right choice.
“We’ve got four heroes currently stumped on two pretty basic riddles. They’re just through that tunnel, in a room before the loot chamber.”
“Spells?”
“A full mage, and someone who looks like a rookie mage. Nothing to worry about.”
“Fire?”
“Yes, they were casting fire.”
“Damn you, Core,” said one owl. “Be more specific with your reports.”
“Now wait a second. This is my dungeon, I am your Dark Lord, and you will not-”
“Orders?”
I sighed. “Go into the next room. Wait until they solve a riddle and open a door, then attack. I want them to be completely off guard and out of sorts when they run into the core room.”
“Bite to kill?”
“Of course.”
One owl nodded at the other. “Orders given. Execute.”
And then the two of them flapped away, and I have to
admit, it was a minute or two before I could process what the hell I had just heard.
It was only when the sounds of screaming came from the room nearby that I pulled myself together. Feeling vulnerable again, I hopped back to my core room to watch the fun.
CHAPTER 32
The barbarian paced backward and forwards, muttering to himself. The mage kept stroking the goatee beard on his chin, repeating the riddle out loud. The two doors, meanwhile, were falling asleep.
“These guys are idiots,” Lisle told Bill.
“That’d make me an idiot, too. I can’t think of the answer.”
“You’re not an idiot, you just don’t have a head for this stuff. But these guys…they really are idiots.”
“If you know the answer, just say it. Sooner we get the loot and leave, the better.”
Lisle patted his older brother on the shoulder. He’d gone through a few different cycles of emotion with Bill. At first, he’d been annoyed that Bill dragged him out to meet a bunch of heroes. Then he’d slowly begun to feel energetic again when the mage taught him new skills.
Then, when they came into this dungeon and the rogue died, Lisle had been pretty annoyed at Bill for dragging them into it. That was about as nice a way as he could put it.
But he understood now. They might die down here, yeah. He and Bill were dying on the surface, though. No motivation, no life. They couldn’t even help their mother.
Bill had saved them by putting them in the greatest danger since the bandit camp.
Now, it was time to move on. Lisle approached the doors. He stared at the bloated lion face.
“You carry it everywhere you go, and it does not get heavy. What is it?” said Lisle. “The answer is your name.”
The lion blinked sleepily. “Very well.” He then shut his eyes.
This left the monkey. “Your riddle is-”
There was suddenly a great flapping sound, and then a screech. No, not one screech, but two, and the sounds were ear-splitting.
They all turned to see two massive owls swooping into the room, their talons ridiculously sharp, their faces strangely sinister.
The barbarian drew his sword. The mage grew a fireball in his palms. Bill held his sword now, and he watched the owls fly back and forth.
Lisle checked his mana; damn it. Empty. That was the drawback of being an amateur mage.
With a screech, one owl darted at the barbarian. Both the barbarian and mage attacked it, which left them completely open to the strikes of the other owl, which dug the talons on both its feet into the mage’s face.
Lisle watched in horror as he saw a talon pierce the mage’s eye. The mage screamed now, though the sound was muted by the claws covering his face. He ran in circles, desperately hitting the talons dug deep in his cheeks and forehead, but the owl wouldn’t release him.
The barbarian, holding his sword, looked for a way of helping his mage friend without accidentally stabbing him in the neck.
And then the second owl screeched at him, talons bared and ready to rip his face off.
With one swift swipe, the barbarian chopped a talon clean off, sending the bird off balance and into the dungeon wall.
He pointed at Lisle. “Mage boy. Use your little fireballs and get that thing off my friend’s face! Don’t worry, Jeremiah! We’ll get you free.”
Jeremiah? Thought Lisle. I thought you guys don’t use names.
This was worrying. The barbarian was losing it.
Lisle checked his mana and saw he had enough for one fireball. He aimed at the owl on the mage’s face and cast it.
And missed.
The mage, blinded by the bird, ran into a wall and fell. The owl tore at him, and the mage screamed for his mother and his father and his old childhood dog.
In desperation, he grew a fireball in his palms and then cast it toward himself, straight at the owl that clung to his cheeks. Its feathers ignited with a whoosh of orange and red, and a burning smell filled the cavern.
Lisle had never before wondered what happens when a mage aims a fire spell at his own face.
It seemed that it was time to find out.
The mage shot to his feet, his hair and face and robes alight, and he sprinted down the tunnel, screaming for his parents, and through the riddle doors.
The burning owl died, and the barbarian finished the other by punching it to the ground and then running it through with his sword.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and then, without a word, stalked off toward the tunnels and riddle doors.
“Are you okay?” said Bill, putting his arm around Lisle.
It was as if being asked the question made Lisle realize just how shaken he was. Was this what it was like being a mage? He’d imagined a warm college dormitory, roaring fires. Class in the afternoons, reading books in the evenings.
But real mages spent their time in dungeons. Scared, out of mana, getting their face clawed to pieces by owls.
The barbarian walked back into the room now. His expression was scary. Not fear, not sadness. Completely devoid of emotion.
“Press on to the loot room,” he said. “The mage is dead.”
Lisle looked at Bill. His older brother showed a curious mix of fear and courage in his expression. He was proud of him at that moment, and at the same time, he wished he was back home with Vedetta and mother. He wanted to hug his sister and say sorry to her.
The warrior walked to the tunnel ahead of them, and there was nothing Lisle and Bill could do but follow.
Bill walked ahead of Lisle, and they followed a passageway ten feet until it opened out into a wide, oval room. There was a loot chest in the center.
“Holy gods damned hell demons. What is that??” said Bill.
Lisle recoiled when he saw the beast step out of the shadows. It was some kind of spider with slugs for legs and grey, hard skin. It gazed around the room in twelve directions at once.
It looked like it could use its legs to eat people. That it could smash you to pieces with its stone head and body. It was a creature designed to kill, to maim, to destroy any hero foolish enough to battle it.
And its name was Gary.
Lisle stared at the floating text icon above its head, trying to resolve the conflicting images of the horrible creature, and its name.
“A boss monster,” said Bill. “The end of every dungeon.” He turned to the barbarian now. “We have no mage, bard, or rogue. Tell me you at least planned for an elemental boss.”
“Plan? Kick plans in the arse and make sure they fall to hell.”
“What?”
The barbarian approached the loot chest in the center. “Hold off the freak,” he told them.
Bill held his sword in dueling stance, while Lisle saw that he now had enough mana for two more fireballs. Not enough, not enough at all.
His brother whispered to him. “Grow a fireball on your palm. Don’t cast it yet. We need to make the monster wary. It doesn’t know how small your balls are. Your fireballs, I mean.”
Lisle nodded, and he let mana seep into his palms.
The barbarian, standing in front of the loot chest, raised his sword. Light flashed down it now, before glowing a deep, dark red, and then yellow. It looked like he’d just taken it out of a forge.
It must have been a barbarian skill.
“Strike of Almighty Fury!” shouted the barbarian, and he smashed his sword against the chest, shattering its padlocks.
Lisle was beginning to see why barbarians were thought of as so stupid. While mages, rogues, and bards used their skills in silence, barbarians had to shout idiotic phrases to activate theirs.
The barbarian grinned at the brothers now. “More than one way to loot a dungeon,” he said. “I’ll grab the treasure and we’ll find a way out. Screw the boss monster. You’re with me now, kids. When you’re with me, you know you’re with the real brains of the party.”
The barbarian reached into the unlocked chest.
And then he screamed in a way that Lisle h
ad never heard in his life. It was a cry so primal, so unexpected, that his blood froze, and the flame died in his hand.
Bill ran over. “A bear trap!” The chest was trapped!”
The barbarian raised his hands, bringing the trap out with it. Both his hands were caught in its teeth. “Get….this…off…me…” he said, in between sobs and gasps.
There was no time.
Because then, Gary the boss monster bounded over to the barbarian and attached three of its slimy legs to him.
Then Lisle saw the teeth, and he realized they were leeches. It had leeches for legs!
The barbarian fell on his back, turning paler and paler as the giant leech legs drained his blood.
The brothers backed away.
They were alone.
A rookie swordsman and mage, alone in a dungeon that had claimed a party of fully licensed heroes. This was the end, and nobody would ever know it had happened.
Their mother would think they had left. So would Vedetta; she’d have no idea that a damn dungeon existed underground near town.
Lisle stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. Neither of them spoke. They were completely muted, completely disarmed by fear now.
And Gary the monster turned their way. His face was pure evil, his leech legs swollen with blood.
Just then, just as Lisle prepared to meet his end in a dungeon he wished he’d never entered, he heard a voice. A voice he recognized. A voice that filled him not with hope, but an overwhelming fear.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted.
CHAPTER 33
No. Not now! What are you doing?
I shouted like a madman at the scenes playing in my core vision. I just couldn’t believe it.
One second, Gary had slaughtered the brute and was left with only the two rookie lads. It was over. I could almost hear Overseer Bolton’s reluctant congratulatory speech in my head.
The next thing I know, a little girl with red hair ran into my loot room and sprinted over to the rookie swordsman and mage. The mage pulled her into a hug. It was completely sickening.
Gary prowled over to them, and the girl pushed away from the mage and looked upwards, at thin air. I knew what she was doing.
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