Seraph stood up, having at least regained enough stamina to move and in doing so was able to catch his reflection in the glass window of the office. His face was gaunt, and his skin hung loose, sagging off of his bones, his body pale and emaciated, similar to those who had known extreme hunger. It was as if his body was forced to consume itself to match the energy output, and in a sense, his body had done exactly that, fed on itself when his energy reverses became exhausted.
For Seraph to be in such a situation was almost comical, that he who had reached towards godhood had actually run out of mana was laughed. Laughable, but as he would always remember, not impossible, at least not impossible currently. Until he was able to regain some of his former strength, he would need to be much more careful. Especially if he indeed to use the thousand handed ability, it’s use would require a delicate balance of precision and power, something he was unsure he could manage in his current state.
For now, he resigned himself to limit its use, he would only use it if no other options remained, a trump card of last resort due to its high mana burn that he could not simply maintain currently and the cost of using an ability in the absence of mana that could easily render him unable to continue fighting.
Seraph watched the emaciated thing that was his reflection slowly return to normal as he regained his mana reserves. First the fullness returned to his cheeks, and the color to his skin. His arms, legs, regained some of their mass and the little physique that he possessed returned.
When he finally felt that he was back to normal he pulled his gaze away from his reflection down to the body that lay crumpled lifelessly at his feet, and then towards his father, Paul's chest rising and failing as a sign of life. Soon Erin's death would offer him yet another boon as he patted his new Cat's Claw and thought of the Starcall ability he had taken from her, when used correctly and without hesitation, it could easily decide any conflict.
It was not an ability that was meant to be wasted on the weak, and now Seraph had ensured it wouldn't be.
Within minutes the lifeless body before him began to disappear as little by little it dissipated into the nothingness of whatever abyss this place was built upon, consumed by the dungeon, Any physical evidence of that Erin had ever existed in this place was erased forever, But it was what came after the erasure that Seraph waited for. He waited for the stat boost that always followed when one consumed another within the dungeon. Waited for a familiar jolt of power, he waited but it never came.
"Figures" Seraph muttered with a curse as he looked at the undisturbed floor where Erin's body had laid down, the dungeon restoring everything to how it had been, and now all that could be seen was a thick layer of dust that suggested that no one had been here in years. When the familiar jolt of power never came, Seraph realized what that meant, Erin had been truly weak, even beyond the standards he had known for weakness. For there to not be even a single stat point that he gained with her death meant that she had remained at the most basic level, level one, and level's ones rarely offered any sort of bonus for their consumption. It was a check the dungeon had put into place to prevent predatory camping of new players at spawn and entry points.
Not that it had stopped him in the past, there were ways around it, the easiest of which was to power level the fresh faces who entered the dungeon and then consume them early, it was an easy and quick way to build up large stat gains. In his past life he had used this message extensively.
A rare smile appeared on his face in memory of how things had been before when him and his guild of player killers had rapidly gained strength beyond anything anyone else could ever compare with. A good memory that he dismissed before he came back to reality.
The reality was that once again he was alone. His father lay not feet from him, slumped over and unconscious, and whatever partnership they might have been able to manage, it was clear it would never come to pass. Paul had been unable to separate his feelings as a father to the situation and Seraph had been forced to act. Though as he watched Paul's chest rise and fall, he was still thankful the man was breathing, he had not intended to kill him, and still wished for his father's survival.
He wished it enough in fact that he had left the required number of tokens out for him to move on to the next phase an opportunity at continued survival that Seraph had rarely granted anyone. An odd mercy that he never granted. Though there was something about the situation that that lingered in his mind as wrong. Seraph thought for a minute and realized what it was.
Paul, his father was still an obstacle in his way, and the last thing he needed was for Paul to ignore the tokens in his hand and go looking for him instead. Seraph was unsure of how much more this phase had to offer, but he was certain that the danger would only grow exponentially as he further explored and tried to find the dungeon seed. He refused to compromise his mission on the off-hand chance that his father would wake and either seek him out to rejoin as a party, his assistance at this point a hindrance, or seek him out in search of vengeance or some other sense of duty.
The man was an obstacle. But Seraph couldn't bring himself to kill him, and even though the man was his father, Seraph couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t bring himself to do it, especially this early on when a few quick power boosts would help him to set up a new empire that would rival and eventually surpass anything he or his guild had achieved in that other lifetime. In spite of all that, there was still something that was missing, something that he needed to fix, and as Seraph stared at the unconscious man. He really didn’t want to kill him, but he couldn't risk his goal being interrupted by this man demanding answers about where his new partner was either. Seraph's gaze lingered on the tokens he had placed near Paul's unconscious body and the answer came to him, a way to remove his father without killing him.
Without hesitation, Seraph reached out and grabbed the tokens he had laid down at Paul’s side, he admonished himself for taking so long to come up with a solution to his current problem. He really should have thought of this before, and in one single coherent motion, he placed all ten of the tokens into Paul's hand and forced the activation. Instantly the man's unconscious body was sent on to the next phase, and for the moment at least he was no longer Seraph's problem.
Seraph stared at the spot on the ground where Paul had been minutes previously, slowly but surely the dungeon reclaimed the spot as the dust disturbed by the man’s presence returned, and in behavior not typical to him, Seraph spoke out “Bye dad.”
Without another thought, Seraph left the office to explore the rest of the school and try to find whatever other secrets the school still had to offer.
Chapter 17: The Remaining
* * *
As he left the office, Seraph slid his forearm into the Cat’s Claw to equip it. The weapon felt good on his arm as he adjusted the nylon straps for a tighter and closer fit. It was a good weapon, an extension of his own body, comfortable and deadly, he would take very good care of it. He had once used something similar at times in his past life, and while it was not a weapon he had achieved legendary status with, he was certainly not unfamiliar, it would be well used in his hands.
The group had dwindled down to just him, and he felt good to be off on his own, in a sense solo had always been his natural state. Without the need to hide who he really was, or what he was capable of, he felt complete confidence in his ability to take down any threat that may come his way, Seraph was no longer obligated to try to tone down his abilities for the sake of others and had no need to hide himself, for now at least he was free.
Walking down the hall, he noticed the smell of dirt clinging to him. He looked behind him and saw the still lingering clouds of dust that his heavy footsteps had kicked up, He laughed as he saw the trails he had made in the dirt, and even as his laughs echoed down the halls, he felt nothing but excitement.
His blood rushing in eager anticipation, nothing quite compared to the feelings that adventuring alone brought up in him, feelings that made him feel alive and really
in control of himself, honest to himself and his nature. He was free of the constraints of having to act a part that wasn’t him, and though he was almost recklessly happy, he was still tuned into his surroundings, his altered senses revealing no current danger to be feared. This was his element.
He walked down the hall, looking at old trophies, old pictures of all the students in class photos that had graduated, the class photos spanning across decades. Below each the awards that had been given out. Seraph quickened his pace, and he caught sight of a classroom at the end of the row of awards. The sign above the door read 1A, with no additionally identifying information Seraph moved to clean the dust and grim from the glass pan on the classroom door, he looked through and saw desks piled up cleanly one on top of the other, whatever this room had been, it hadn’t been in use for a long time, this wasn’t what he was looking for he was sure, he turned around and continued to walk.
He didn’t think it would be that easy, and not finding what he was looking for on the first try wasn’t a surprise. He came to the 2nd classroom this one marked 1B and a name on the door read “Mr. Johnston.” Finding a name plate was a good indicator that this classroom had been in use. Seraph tried to remove the grime and dirt from this window, but still couldn’t see inside, the interior window covered in some sort of black residue.
Seraph was in a mood to fight, but wasn’t going to take any risks, he used his new Starcall ability to summon the point of light on his side of the doorway centered in this air and let it charge for a few moments. As he waited he checked his surroundings and noticed nothing amiss that he needed to be concerned about just yet. He knew he wasn’t alone, but he wasn’t sure if he was alone in the halls, for now at least, nothing was nearby.
With a loud thud he knocked on the door three times, each knock louder than the last. He exerted enough force to dent the door and partially cave it in. He smiled at his handiwork and prepared himself to fight as he heard quick movements scraping on the floor coming from the other side of the doorway, and as if to confirm that something was there, the door shock as something it from the other side.
“Perfect” Thought Seraph as he grabbed the door handle and opened the door and turned his back away from the doorway as he released the Starfall that he had been charging.
What appeared to have once been a man stumbled out of the doorway in a frenzied state, screaming in incomprehensible guttural noises as it clutched at its eyes. It’s skin was green and gangrenous, covered in thick boils that ooze puss. The clothing in relative disrepair, rotting at the seams and heavy with mold and mildew.
“Ah.” Thought Seraph with a smile. “A Drowned One, that's interesting.” A Drowned One is a type of undead that usually not always has a water related death, but is most known for requiring the existence of nearby water in its undeath. It was not a basic type of undead, any attack whether it landed or not had a chance to apply a necrosis or gangrene, neither of which resolved itself out of battle. It was best to make this quick. With one quick motion while the Drowned One was still unable to see Seraph, Seraph thrust the Cat Claw up and forward while grabbing the top of the monster’s skull by its slimy skin and the wispy tuft of hair it still possessed. The sharp knife like points of the Cat’s Claw easily cut through the rotted flesh, tissue, and bone.
Despite what should have been a death blow, the drowned man roared in anger as it swung its arms wildly to try to kill the thing which had hurt it. This wasn’t a problem for Seraph, as he pulled the blades of the Cat Claw out of the back of the monster's skull he applied pressure in a downward curve, severing the spinal cord. The monster dead falling to the ground lifelessly for a true death.
As he pulled the blades out, thick white puss fell to the ground and his blades were a deep reddish black from the coagulated blood and gray with brain matter.
“That won’t do” Said Seraph to himself as he bent over and wiped the claw’s blades on the drowned one’s rotted shirt, noticing as he did the name tag above the undead man’s heart that read “Mr. Johnston.”
With no signs of other monsters within the classroom, Seraph stepped forward through the doorway of classroom 1B.
Scorch marks marred the walls in blackened angry scars. The few remaining desks were heavily burnt, their metal frames warped from heat. The room was heavy with moisture and the smell of mildew. In the middle of the room pooled fetish, green water. Seraph cast a quick glance around the room seeing if anything caught his eyes, and on the desk that licked belonged to a Mr. Johnstone, he saw a ring of keys that he was sure he would find useful.
Though Seraph did not see or hear anything that hinted at the presence of monsters, he was still leery of the standing pool of water in the room. A lesson he would always remember was that few things, inside the dungeon or outside of it, are ever really harmless. Treat everything like a threat and be surprised by nothing. The pool of water was an unknown that he kept his eyes on and as he walked towards the desks and grabbed the keys he was not surprised when the first rotted hand began to pull itself out of the water, nor was he surprised when another set of hands followed them.
A normal adventurer might have been intimated or even scared at what appeared to be a spawning point right in the middle of the room he was in, effectively trapping him from escape, but Seraph was not normal by any means, and he knew what many adventurers did not, if this was a drowned one spawning point, which Seraph was positive it was, it was limited to spawning a number equal to however many people had originally died in the room, and though the room was not small, Seraph still believed the number to be more than manageable.
Seraph put off the keys for now and ran towards the spawning pool, careful to avoid its edges. He would be a fool to forget that the dead hands of the drowned ones could still easily reached out and grab him if he was unwary and pull him under to be torn apart. It was a grisly end, but easily avoided.
Effortlessly, Seraph dispatched the Drown One as it was still dragging itself out of the pool, and managed the same for the 2nd, but by the time he was able to face the 3rd it had already pulled itself out from the pool to come after him, its arms stiff and outreached trying to kill him, it was not on the same level as the one he had killed previously with the name tag.
He dodged and weaved as more and more of the drowned ones emerged from the pool, careful to try to avoid exerting himself, easier opponents or not he was unsure how many he faced and the last thing he needed was to be killed because of a fatigue debuff. As he moved he struck where he could and cut and severed tissue and tendon, what he could not kill, he could maim and within minutes the drowned ones which had not been killed outright by severing the spinal cord at least had their movement severity inhibited.
Seraph took his time to finish killing the rest, though he was tired he felt he had managed pretty well to keep from over doing it and as he grabbed the keys in his hands he took stock of how many of the things he had killed, eleven in total. “Not bad at all.” He muttered to himself as he held the keys up to look them over.
He counted a total of four keys, instantly dismissing what looked like a car key as being important. He also dismissed the key marked 1B, he’d use it to lock the room behind him to make sure when the spawn reset nothing could approach him from behind, but aside from that it had no use, which left the remaining two keys, one marked maintenance, and the other wasn’t marked at all.
An unmarked key was hardly a lead, which left him with the idea to search for the maintenance room. Before heading off, he decided to put that experience farming he had just done to work and put the two stat points from the levels he had just gained into endurance. This was a marathon and not a race, he would need an extra reserve to pull from he was sure of that and needed to try and avoid having another spell of fatigue.
Name
Luca Fernandez - Alias Seraph
Race
Fallen
(+50% Melee Damage Output)
(-50% Healing Debuff)
Level
5 o
f 999
Current Experience
3 of 90
STR
2
WIS
1
END
4
AGI
3
INT
1
LCK
1
PER
3
Chapter 18: Revelations
* * *
Ragged breathing echoed down the hall; the empty lockers rusted by age further propelling the noise into the distance acting as amplifiers to the sounds that Seraph made as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. Even with the extra points he had put into endurance to boost his stamina, it was still not even to ward against his battle fatigue completely. Thankfully the hallway was bereft of life except for him, and he saw no signs of monsters in various states of undeath haunting or roaming the halls.
Feeling somewhat safe, at least as safe as much as the situation warranted, he allowed himself a moment of respite as he propped his back against one of the less rusted looking lockers to catch his breath. The breath moments of relaxation was enough to coax his body into slowly regaining his strength while always on guard for enemies and threats that might take this opportunity when his stamina was low to fall upon him.
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