by Deck Davis
Nothing happened, so he picked up the dagger and put it back in his inventory.
“Getting frustrated?” asked Bee.
“I wanted to see what happens when this thing tilts. Call me a pessimist, but I have this idea that there’s an abyss waiting underneath the platform. The dagger wasn’t heavy enough to shift it.”
“Maybe you could just sprint to the door? Run along the middle so that if this thing tilts, you aren’t jerking the weight?”
“I can’t see anything else to do. Hang on.”
He cast underlay around the room, hoping to see parts of the walls change to yellow to reveal hidden switches.
Nope. Boxe wasn’t going to give him the same solution twice in a row.
As much as using underlay didn’t give him an answer, at least a dialogue box popped up, telling him that he’d leveled his underlay skill to Nickel level four.
Now, his armorer, mining, and underlay skills were all one level away from ranking him up from Nickel to whatever the next step was. It was something positive, but it didn’t help right now.
He looked behind him, and he saw that the door to room one was closed. That made sense; he’d committed himself to room two, and that meant the only way to leave were by solving it or dying.
Some choice.
“I guess I better give this a try,” he said.
He ran forward, taking a straight path over the circular floor so he didn’t make it tilt. His nerves were on edge, and he kept expecting the ground to shift and send him hurtling down.
It didn’t happen. He crossed the room, reaching the door on the end and letting out a long, relieved breath.
“That was way too easy.”
He grabbed the handle of the door and turned it, but nothing happened.
“Locked,” he said.
A rumbling sound drew his attention to the ceiling where he saw parts of the rock begin to open as if they were hidden panels. It reminded him of the alcoves in room one, and he expected arrows to fly at him.
Instead, something fell from the panel to his right and crashed on the ground. It was a chunk of rock; brown, lumpy, and much heavier than his dagger. Big enough to move the floor.
The surface beneath him rocked worse than a ship in high tide, and he felt the room shift. The momentum caught him off balance, and he fell onto his side.
As the whole floor began to tilt, he grasped for something to grip onto, but the flooring was too smooth. A cold snap of panic gathered in his throat.
Looking to his right where the floor tilted, he saw it; its movement had revealed a gap that was getting larger and larger, giving him a full view of what was underneath the floor.
An expanse of darkness, a drop that seemed to go down for miles and miles, with something glowing red way down at the bottom.
Lava. More god-damned lava.
“Tripp!” cried Bee, as the floor tilted further. The rock that had caused the shift in the first place rolled closer to the edge. Tripp felt the momentum of the tilt pulling him further to the edge of the flooring.
With every inch it moved him it added even more weight to that side, making it tilt even more.
Summoning all his energy, he rolled to his left and then pushed himself to his feet. He darted to the other side of the platform, getting there just in time that his weight started to even the balance.
That only lasted seconds, before the tilting changed direction toward him, and the floor began to shift toward where he was standing.
He moved again, standing in the center this time, evening it out and letting his nerves settle.
That was it, then. If he moved either side of the room, the floor would shift. Stay there too long, and he’d fall into the depths below, where Old Kimby would devour him in the lava pools that reminded him too much of stomach acids. If he just stood there and did nothing, rocks would fall from the ceiling.
Room two would see him eaten by the mountain, burned alive in her fiery juices.
“A tilting floor, a locked door, more hidden panels. What the hell kind of artificery is going to get me through this?”
“Even if you knew, how would you use it? There’s only one way to get out of here so you can start crafting,” said Bee.
Tripp thought about the lava below the platform and felt his throat tighten. He had something of an aversion to things that would burn his skin. Not that anyone else would have enjoyed it, but when he thought about the acid, about waking up in hospital…
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
“What choice do you have?”
“I don’t know if I can throw myself in the lava, Bee. Let me build myself up to it.”
As he tried to steel himself to the idea of tilting the floor and jumping into the abyss to get out of there, he heard another rumble.
It was another rock ready to fall, taking the element of choice away from him. Boxe5 was going to kill him here one way or the other.
Instead of the sound of rock crashing down, this time something else fell from the ceiling panel. It was joined by four more thuds, each falling from separate panels.
Turning toward the sound while trying to stay balanced and avoid plummeting into the lava, Tripp saw that he wasn’t alone in the room.
CHAPTER 35
Sometimes a guy had to admit that the universe had won and that he was screwed.
That was how Tripp felt when creatures called rotwood fiends joined him on the platform in the room of Tilting Abyss. Ranging between levels 16 – 22, even one of them would have beaten him to a bloody mess.
They looked like gorillas but instead of fur they had scaly skin, and their shoulders were lined with ridges. They weren’t carrying weapons, but from the bulge of their biceps and with fists that looked like rocks, he doubted they needed them.
“Great. A locked door, a tilting floor, an abyss…and four rotwood fiend bastards. Did I hurt Boxe’s feelings or something?”
It didn’t take much to send him to respawn after that. When one fiend clubbed him over the head, Tripp felt like he’d been hit by a double-decker bus. They could have turned him into a cube of crushed orc if they’d wanted to.
Despite that, for all their brawn the fiends had been stupid. All four of them pounding over to him, their added weight making the floor move.
Tripp fell off the platform and plummeted into the abyss, closing his eyes as he neared the lava.
His rewards for his first foray into room two were pain, death, and a penalty for suffering it; Boxe5 had slowed his skill leveling by 15% for 12 hours. Not content with killing him, the AI had decided to kick him in the nuts.
He awoke back in Mountmend by the town gates, dazed, aching, a sense of hopelessness wrapped around him.
It was almost dark now, and most of the Mountmend NPCs were closing their shops, going into their homes, and locking their doors. Tripp watched groups of players come in and out of town, some wearing matching guild armor. Their friendly banter was comforting somehow, even if he wasn’t a part of their group. He guessed it was just being out of the mountain and back surrounded by fellow players.
“You look you lost a fight to a sledgehammer,” said Bee.
“It felt like it, but dying gets a little easier the more times you do it. It’ll be a pain to have the cap on my skills for a while, though, because I’m going to need them.”
“You’ll have to level up. Those fiends were all higher than you.”
“I don’t think that’ll cut it, Bee. There were four of them; I’d need to be a steroid-pumped hell-giant to take them on by myself. The fiends aren’t even the trickiest part. What about the door? Did you see a key anywhere? A switch?”
“I drew a blank.”
“We know one thing; this is a test of my skills. I’ll need to create something, but my brain feels like it’s coated in treacle. Let’s break it down. First, we have the fiends, right? I can’t deal with the floor and finding a way out of the door while they’re trampling all over and making it unbalanced.
I’ll need to send them to their maker.”
“We could head over to the plains. Toughen you up a little.”
“It won’t work if I try to take them on by myself. Even one of them would mash me up. I hate to say it but I think I might have to take Warren up on his offer. It’ll be four against four.”
“And share your loot with that bastard?”
“Better than having no loot at all.”
“I just hate the idea of him thinking he’s so smart. Turning on you like that.”
“Me too. Kinda upsets the dynamic a little. I need to even it out, show them that just because there’s three of them, they don’t hold all the cards. Come on.”
It was that age-old question; how did you teach a cleric, a spirit archer, and an elephant woman a lesson after they’d killed you, so that you could then team up with them to navigate a labyrinth devised by a semi-sentient AI? A problem most people could relate to, he was sure.
He had an idea, but it was going to take work.
The first thing he did was take a trip to Mountmend library, navigating the myriad of shelves to find the alchemy section, where he found the book that he needed.
His next stop was to a shop in the oval plaza where he visited a potion trader and bought a few empty glass vials. With that done, he was ready.
As the mid-day sun strained to make itself seen through a flotilla of clouds, he and Bee went out into the plains. The grass was dew-filled, and the smell of wet flora reminded his of his parent’s old garden.
He told Bee what he needed her to find using her herbalism and then he sent her off to explore as far away as their tethering would let her go. While she buzzed around, Tripp used the leftover frorarg pheromone to attract the frog-bellied creatures and then grind away at them, seeing his experience bar crawl forward at the pace of a cat running through an oil slick.
His loot gain was just as meager as his leveling; low-level critters like those only yielded a handful of gold coins and a wood felling axe that was ranked as common and looked like it’d fall apart after one use. He gathered the frorarg corpses and put them in his inventory in case he needed more of their fire essence.
Folds of darkness had started to cover the sky by the time they were both finished. The nocturnal insects of Godden’s Reach had begun to wake, filling the plains with their chorus of cheeps and chirps that sounded like they were coming from all around him.
“I highlighted the herbs on your map,” said Bee. “We got lucky; I found the nightshade you asked for over there. See where the land dips?”
He checked his map and saw the labels of plants dotting it. Following the trail Bee had left him, he gathered up the herbs he needed, and then he used his campfire again.
Soon, he was sitting behind the crackling fire, the herbs next to him, his cooking pan on his lap. The mix of nighttime breeze and heat from the fire felt good on his face.
“Keeping your plans to yourself doesn’t make you a mysterious genius, you know.”
“I was saving it as a surprise,” said Tripp. “You’ll love this.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Settle down a little and watch.”
The herbs were nightshade - which the library book had told him would produce a poison effect - and lightwight, which had the opposite effect, working as an antidote.
The last herb was called Purple Lotus. As effects went, it wasn’t much use for alchemy, but it was going to be vital in what he wanted to do. Simply, mixing it with a potion would dye the liquid purple.
“Now we have the fun part.”
“Ooh, good.”
“Fun for me, Bee. Your fun part comes later.”
He first mixed the lightwight herbs with water he’d collected from the stream nearby, crushing the petals until they were as fine as he could make them, and then adding water, stirring them, adding more water, stirring. The work was repetitive, but it was also relaxing.
He ended up with a dull yellow liquid, which he then added some lotus to, changing it purple. He poured the mixture into a vial, and then set it by his feet, committing where he’d put it to memory. It was important that he didn’t mix his vials up.
Next, he used his alchemy to mix the poison-effect nightshade, water, and lotus together, creating a mixture that was the same color, but wildly different in its effects. He poured this into the other three vials and set them down.
When he was done, his alchemy had leveled up to Nickel two, and he felt a rush of warmth flood through him. He took a second to just enjoy the sensation.
Bee had watched him the whole time. “I see what’s going on here, Tripp. What you plan to do. I’m seeing a different side to you,” she said. “This isn’t just a little nasty - it’s downright wicked.”
“You can’t turn over a new leaf until you’ve gotten rid of the old one. Actual leaves are going to help me do that, as it happens.”
With his campfire fighting against the darkening night, with his vials ready, Tripp accessed his message list and found the one that Jon had sent him to apologize for their treachery. He felt a smile form on his lips as he composed the message.
Jon – tell Warren I’ve thought about his offer. Come to my campfire, it’s just south of Mountmend. Tripp.
Then, he waited. He waited and he doubted, wondering if this was the right thing to do and whether it went against his principles a little.
The conclusion he came to, was that principles could go hang. Fight fire with fire. Or with poison.
Soon, three figures walked toward him until they were close enough that the camp flames illuminated them, spreading light over a robed cleric, a grey tusk woman, and an archer. With every step they took, Tripp felt himself get more on-edge.
Jon gave a small wave, which was the most enthusiastic greeting Tripp had gotten from him so far. Lizzy approached and put her trunk in his shoulder and kissed his cheek, while Warren sat by the fire.
“Glad you saw sense,” Warren said. “I told Jon you weren’t stubborn enough to try to solo the labyrinth. I mean, I know what we did to you but bygones be bygones, and all that?”
Tripp smiled. “Sure. Jon, Lizzy, take a seat. Let me bring you up to speed.”
He told them about Konrad and the dungeons, explaining how he’d gotten through the first room, and what he and Bee had found waiting for them in the second.
Warren listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving Tripp. Every time Tripp mentioned loot, he seemed to perk up a little.
“There are three rooms, right?” he said. “I guess the loot gets better in each one.”
Tripp nodded. “And the danger gets worse. Let’s be honest with each other. I’d rather have teamed up with a sleel than you guys, but I don’t know anyone else in Soulboxe, and I’ve learned how tough the labyrinth is by myself.”
Warren shrugged. “You need to get through the labyrinth, we need loot. The lion and the tiger don’t have to be best friends as long as they work together to eat the villagers. What do you say? Party up and get loot, or go solo and die a thousand deaths?”
Tripp paused a second before answering, acting as if he was turning it over in his head one last time. He put his hand out.
“Let’s shake on it.”
The four of them shook hands. Lizzy twirled her trunk. “I’m kinda excited to see this place. When do we get started?”
“We can head over there right now,” said Tripp.
Warren looked at Jon, who shrugged and said, “I’m ready if you are.”
“Let’s do it,” said Warren.
Now came the tricky part of Tripp’s plan. Well, the tricky part before the tough part; none of this was easy.
He packed up his campfire and put it back in his inventory with one use left. Not only did the absence of the fire make the darkness on the plains seem heavier, but it also removed the safe zone where players couldn’t kill each other. This was the part where he was most vulnerable.
He grabbed the glass vials from the ground. “I br
ewed this,” he said. “It’ll help us in room two.”
Lizzy grabbed it with her trunk. “It smells like cat pee. What is it?”
“Gives you more agility,” said Tripp. “Loosens up your joints and puts more springs in your step than a mattress. It’ll help with the tilting. Drink up and we’ll go.”
He knew that he couldn’t just stare at them and wait for them to drink; that would have looked too suspicious. Instead, he grabbed his own vial and drank it back, trying with all his might to hold back on the evil genius-like smile that threatened to spread on his face.
Warren, Jon, and Lizzy followed suit. Watching them gulp it, Tripp couldn’t help enjoying thinking about what was to come. He hadn’t expected this – it was fun to play the villain.
At first, nothing happened. They all walked toward Mountmend in the distance, the sound of their boots the only noise to compete with the insect orchestra around them.
But he kept an eye on their health bars, and then he saw it, and he clenched his fists and waited.
First Warren’s bar dropped, four-fifths of the red bar disappearing in a second. The cleric stopped walking.
Then Jon’s bar dropped, followed by Lizzy’s.
“What the hell?” said Warren.
Tripp had to be fast; Warren was a cleric, and he was the biggest danger here. His healing could get them out of it.
“Sorry about this,” said Tripp, remembering what Jon had said before they had killed him.
After equipping his morning star, he smashed Warren in the face, seeing the barbs on the end tear into his skin. With most of his health already gone, he fell on the floor, eyes shut, blood smeared on his face.
Jon reached for his bow but Tripp was too quick, grunting as he swung his weapon at Jon’s stomach. He pulled it away and then hit him again.
That left Lizzy, but now Tripp saw that he had a problem.
She was a grey tusk. A big, bulky elephant woman with a constitution much stronger than her brothers’. Her health had only dropped halfway, which made this a fair fight since she was levels above Tripp.
