by R. A. Mejia
When the scenes are finished, Ranut appears. I can’t move or speak. In his hands, he has a old-fashioned scale, the kind Lady Justice holds in front of courthouses. Ranut walks to me and seems to pick out of my mind each decision and action of my life and place it on one side of the scale. On the other side of the scale is a single golden feather. Each choice I’ve made in life is judged. Whether it was me cheating on a test or the choice to kill, or run, or craft is weighed out and the left side just seems to get heavier and heavier. I fear what will happen if the scale tips out of balance. I remember reading stories of ancient gods sending sinners to places of torment or sending good people to paradise. I briefly wonder where my parents ended up.
Ranut finishes taking the memories from my mind, and we wait for the scale to stop swaying. It teeters on the brink of unbalance. Then the feather glows, and the scales remain balanced. Ranut looks at the scale in his hand and bares his teeth. “Congratulations. Your sins do not outweigh your good deeds. You have been judged.”
There’s another flash of light, and I’m back standing in front of the dais. There is a moan to my left, and I turn to see Sonya where she collapsed on the ground. Her sword has fallen from her fingers. She is clutching her head, and her voice cracks with emotion as she speaks. “I saw it. I saw my whole life. My mother’s death when I was born. My father’s pain at her passing and his attempt to numb it with drink. His disappointment that I was not the son he’d always wanted. The hellish training to mold me into what he wanted me to be, instead of who I reminded him of. The fighting. All of it.”
I hear Race crying to my right and see him curled up in a ball. There are scratches on his face where his fingernails have gouged through his skin, and rivulets of blood run freely. I kneel beside him and spellwrite the symbol for ‘life’ to heal his wounds. I have to wonder what the man saw that would make him hurt himself like that.
As if reading my mind, Ranut says, “The desert dweller you call Race has lead an awfully bad life. Theft, assault, and murder are but a few of the charges your justice system would bring against him.”
Why is Ranut using words like ‘charges’ and ‘justice system’? He could barely speak the same language as us a few minutes ago.
Sensing my confusion, Ranut continues, “Oh, where are my manners? While I was looking through your memories, I took the time to better learn your language and customs. It never ceases to amaze me what you can learn about a culture from a man’s memories. And, boy, do you have an interesting culture, Earthling.”
Alarm bells start to go off in my mind. All the warnings Mary ever gave me about letting other people know that I’m not from Terra come back to me. This entity. This puffed-up dungeon master has learned my secrets. Part of me will always be thankful to him that I could see my parents again, but I’ll always hate him more for making me watch them die. Angry at the invasion of my privacy, I growl out, “What now, Ranut? You’ve had a good look through our minds and come to some kind of judgment. What now?”
Motioning to Sonya he says, “Well, your girlfriend there is a relatively good egg. You and she can leave here with a gift from me. Or . . .”
“Or what?”
“Or, you can join me as the new ruler of the city above.” The cat creature appears beside me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Now, don’t answer me yet. Let me finish. I can see in your mind that you have goals. You wish more than anything else to have a place where the people you love are safe. I can give you that.”
I turn to face Ranut and see a smirk on his face. He’s seen deeper into me than I thought. He continues, “Just imagine. You and everyone you know can start your own settlement out here, away from all the fighting and scheming of the surrounding nations. There’s enough room in the city above to house everyone you’ve ever met and then some. I’ll provide you with food, water, and any resource you can imagine.” He points to a space in front of the dais, and a pile of gold coins appears. “Need gold? I can make plenty.” He waves his hand, and the gold is replaced with a pile of glowing scrolls. “Want to learn the secrets of magic? I have knowledge of spells thought lost to the ages.” Ranut circles around me as he talks like a predator stalking its prey. He seductively whispers in my ear, “I can give you enough power that no one would be able to hurt you or your friends ever again.”
My shoulders feel tight, like a great weight has been placed on them. I believe him. I’ve seen the city above. You don’t build that kind of place without some serious power. “I won’t lie and say I’m not tempted. But nothing that good comes free. What would you ask of me in return for this power?”
Ranut practically dances in front of me he’s so excited. “Oh, nothing really. Just that you would be a good ruler. Maintain my temple. Allow the people that want to worship here.” That doesn’t sound that bad to me. But Ranut continues, an evil sparkle in his eye, “And punish the wicked.”
“Punish the wicked?”
The cat man waves his arms dismissively as if it’s a most obvious request, “Of course. I can’t have my . . . err . . . our people ruled by someone that would let people do bad things.”
“Well, I guess that’s true.”
“And besides, I have the power to see into people’s hearts and memories. You’d only be killing those that truly deserved it.”
“Wait, what? Kill who?”
Ranut starts to pace like an animal that expects dinner because he hears the can opener. “The wicked. Keep up. Isn’t it the duty of every ruler to protect his people? How do you expect to keep your people safe if you let murderers and thieves run free in your city? You have to be a strong ruler and cut out the weeds that pop up sometimes.”
My mind feels fuzzy as I listen to Ranut speak. Visions of my friends being murdered by bad people I couldn’t stop pass through my mind.
I feel a hand on my shoulder again, and my new friend Ranut is holding a golden sword in his hand. He offers it to me. “Here. Take this sword as a symbol of our new arrangement.” I take the sword and feel its weight. Looking at it, a notification pops up.
Sword of Judgment
An ancient weapon of power.
Damage: 150-200
Special effect: Those killed by it are used to feed the being known as Ranut.
Activation phrase: May there be judgment.
Before I can think too much about what the notification says, Ranut guides me over to where Race is curled up on the floor. “Here. This will be your first act as the ruler of this kingdom. Punish this wicked man.” A vision of all Race’s life comes to me.
____________
Race and his sister grew up in the Jetal tribe, a nomadic people that herded goats and camels near the mountains that border Monstrum and the Imperare. They hunted when they could, but mostly traveled from place to place where the animals could graze. His greatest joys were racing the other children and listening to his grandmother tell stories at night.
Then the raiders came. They killed most of Race’s tribe and took him and his sister. The two were sold as servants to a pig of a man in the city. He made the two of them work night and day, cleaning and cooking. When his sister started to bud into womanhood, the man started to treat her differently. He had her sit on his lap, and he gave her sweet treats. Race was jealous at first, but then he saw how the man’s hands touched his sister and the way he looked at her. Race knew that the two of them had to get away. He stole food from his master. He stole small coins and bits that he thought the two of them would need. He took his time so that no one would be suspicious. But he waited too long. One day, after returning from the market, he came home to find his sister crying. She was curled up in the corner by the stove. Her face was black and blue, and there were bruises on her arms in the shape of a hand. She tried to pull her dress down to cover herself, but Race saw the blood. She only said one thing to Race, “Why weren’t you here to stop him?” The words broke his heart, and in his anger at what their master had done, he took the knife from the kitchen counter and walked
into his master’s room. There he found him, sleeping. Race used the knife to make sure the man never woke.
Race and his sister fled from that house to another city where the two of them begged for food. Race joined a gang of youngsters like himself, and together they stole what they needed to survive and hurt anyone that got in their way.
A sickness came to the city one year. His sister was only thirteen when she caught it and died. Race wandered for a while after that. Robbing, stealing, and even killing. He killed to defend himself. He killed a man for horse. He even killed a man once just because he didn’t like the way he looked. He was a lost soul that sought self-destruction. Then he met the thief Pauline. He would have been lost for good if she hadn’t found him. She made a place for him in her guild. She gave him purpose and hope. As a member of her crew, he still stole, but it was with a new family around him. It was from them that he first heard of the gladiatorial arenas. Men and women that fight with honor and grow strong. He practiced with the fighters and even got Pauline’s permission to leave the guild so that he could explore this new dream. He just had to escort one last caravan as a special favor to her.
_____________
My mind reels as the visions of Race’s life catch up to now. I feel Ranut’s clawed fingers on my shoulder. “See, see? This man did much harm to those around him. Theft, beatings, and even murder. You do not want such people in your city. I have judged his soul too heavy with sin. Now, you must kill him so that I may feed, and we can start building a safe place for you and your friends.”
I look into Ranut’s eyes and see true conviction there. He believes every word he’s saying. He truly thinks that such sacrifices are the building blocks of a good kingdom. I nod, look up at Ranut, and smile. “Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. Through the judgment of such evil we shall bring about a better world.”
Ranut looks into my eyes, but I turn quickly and raise the golden sword in my hands. Race looks up at me, and then he sees the raised sword. He’s stopped crying, and I can see the self-loathing in his eyes. It’s the look of a man who thought he’d moved past his traumas, but knows that he deserves death for what he’s done in his life. Ranut moves to get a better view of the execution and his first meal in ages. He’s so focused on Race’s expression that he doesn’t see when I tilt the blade raised above my head. With hate in my voice, I scream, “May there be judgment!” I put every ounce of strength and power I have in my body into bringing the golden blade down, not onto Race, but onto Ranut.
Damage Dealt: 230 (Critical hit)
Ranut looks at me in anger at my betrayal and screams in pain as the golden blade bites into his neck. Arterial blood sprays out in a stream. I see a health bar rise above the cat creature.
Ranut - Dungeon Master Lvl. 10
His health must be in poor condition from the centuries without dungeon divers or sacrifices to feed him because my one blow took off a third of his health.
Ranut grasps the wound at his throat with one hand and uses some magic to make the golden blade in my hands disappear with the other. “Betrayer! I will flay you alive for a hundred years for this. I am a god. The Lord of . . .”
His rant is interrupted when another blade bites into his neck from behind. I smile when I see Sonya, gripping the two-handed sword buried in Ranut. She’s smiling and screams, “You are no god! You’re just a weak, old dungeon!”
Ranut turns and swings wildly with his right hand. He gets lucky and strikes Sonya, sending her falling backwards. She turns the fall into a backward roll and is back onto her feet, sword at the ready. She activates her [Taunt] ability and says, “Here, kitty, kitty. Come and get it!”
I’m momentarily impressed by Sonya’s great one-liner, and then I watch in awe as the two battle it out. Sparks fly everywhere as the well-trained warrior maiden takes on a gravely-wounded dungeon master. It’s claw versus blade. But, as good as Sonya is, the level difference between the two is evident. Slowly, wound after wound is inflicted on her. I know I have to help somehow, but I don’t think I have a single spell that can end things.
Then it clicks. No, not a spell. I’m an artificer. I’m a maker. And I can make things go boom really well. I open up my inventory and see the Heart of Ammit there. I pocketed it, hoping to sell it off for gold later. But, now, I focus my mind on its essence. I see its matrix, and it’s a thing of beauty. Unlike the rough crystals I’ve worked with before, this is almost a work of art. The gem has already been cut and polished, thus preparing its form. I will my mana into it and restructure its matrix to hold a great charge of power. I pour just about every ounce of mana I can into the ruby, and it still has room for more. I grab the four elemental grenades in my inventory, drain the mana from them, and direct it into the ruby. That fills it to the brim, and I reprogram one of the crystals to act as the triggering mechanism. I hear a scream of pain and know that my time is up. I bind the crystals together, finish my work, and pray that I haven’t screwed up the coding somewhere.
Opening my eyes, I dismiss a notification about a skill increase and XP loss and see Sonya being held by her throat in the air, a gaping hole rent in her chainmail armor revealing a large bleeding wound in her side.
Ranut’s back is to me, and I hear him taunt Sonya, clearly enjoying his assumed victory. Over his head, I see his health bar is down to the quarter mark. Sonya got in some good hits.
I wave to catch her attention, and I see her glance at me. I point to the Heart of Ammit and the crystal additives in my hand. She nods once in understanding as I pull my arm back and throw it to Sonya. It seems like it takes forever to arc and reach her, but she deftly drops the sword in her hand and grabs the object from midair. Ranut turns and catches a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the crystal in Sonya’s hand, and his eyes widen in recognition. If he’s seen all my memories, he knows exactly what it is. He opens his mouth to say something, perhaps a plea or threat, but Sonya shoves the ruby down his throat before he can and activates the device. The creature known as Ranut drops Sonya and spends the last five seconds of his existence clutching at his throat, trying to dislodge the mana bomb there. Sonya and I grab Race and run as far away as we can.
There’s a huge burst of heat and light, and then we’re all thrown off our feet.
Damage dealt: 170 (Mana explosion)
You've helped kill Ranut - Dungeon Master Lvl. 10. You receive 100 XP.
The world goes black for a moment, and when things come back into focus, I’m on the ground. Sonya, heavy armor and all, is on top of me and Race. My ears are ringing, but I can see from her health bar that she’s almost done for. I pour what little mana I have regenerated into healing her, and while I’m able to stop her bleeding, she’s still pretty hurt. She rolls off of the two of us and asks in a hoarse whisper, “Did we win?”
I hug my woman and kiss her, trying to be gentle since she’s still wounded. “Yes, we won. You were wonderful.”
Chapter 22
It takes me several uses of meditation to refill my mana before I can bring Sonya back to full strength because of the absurd amount of health she has. I really shouldn’t complain, since it’s likely the only thing that saved her in the fight against Ranut, and I can I replay my memories of my group’s recent fights while I wait for my mana to recharge. Part of me cringes as I realize exactly how close I came to dying while trying to take on the roles of tank or damage dealer. Becoming an artificer cost me a 20-30% reduction to health, stamina, and mana, but my fighting style hasn’t changed much. I rush into fights, forgetting that I can’t take as many hits as I used to and that my reduced mana pool prevents me from tossing out more than a few mildly-damaging spells. I also recognize that the greatest advantage of my class, its high mana-regeneration rate, may one day be enough to sustain constant magic casting. But, for now, all it means is that I don’t have to rest as long when recovering mana. It’s great for the time in between fights, but not so awesome when I can’t stop and rest for several minutes. While I
recognize the need to change, I honestly don’t know how to. Still, for now, I have ways to contribute to the group.
After healing up, the three of us scour the floor for loot. I mean, that’s the big draw for beating the boss in a dungeon, isn’t it? Once Ranut’s body disappears, three items are left behind.
Breastplate of Resolution
This enchanted breastplate not only protects the wearer with superior defense but also enhances the wearer’s ability to repulse mental attacks.
Defense: 10
Bonus: +3 versus mental attacks
Durability: 30/30
Net of Paralysis
A net with a special alchemical treatment that induces paralysis in anyone caught with it.
Special effect: Paralysis for 30-60 seconds.
Durability: 20/20
Dungeon Core (Damaged)
This dungeon core belonged to the dungeon master, Ranut. It may be repaired and used to create a new dungeon or used in other arcane rituals.
Our search of the rest of the room only turns up a handful of coins, but we do find a stairway behind the throne that leads upward. As we climb the stairs, the passageway around us starts to shift, and the very stones groan with stress. The three of us pick up the pace, realizing that this area may be considered part of the dungeon--you know, the one without a dungeon master keeping it all together. We hear crashing sounds as we race through the doorway at the top of the staircase, and we do not stop running. We race past the altar, past the pews, and out the main door of the temple which is open once again. The building collapses behind us just as we exit. The thick stone columns crack, the beautiful murals shatter, and dust flies everywhere, obscuring our vision.