Heroes of Darkness: A Dark Dungeon Realm LitRPG Omnibus Collection

by Wolfe Locke

  The skeleton roared in fury as it tried to reach out and grab him. But without proper positioning, John was able to easily evade the monster and in the process was able to cut clean through some of the skeletal fingers that reached out to grab him. I can do this.

  Off-balance, the skeleton crashed into the ground. The monster unable to keep itself even somewhat upright as it’s momentum toppled it. It’s mostly immobile now. I need to end this.

  John was able to get up close to the creature’s skull. He gripped the other thrice blessed axe that still was glowing bright with the rare ability and brought it down on the monster’s brow. A flash of light filled the room again, and though the skull was not destroyed, John saw a large crack had formed. The monster was injured.

  Time for some heavy work. John brought both of his thrice blessed axes down in attack again and again. Nothing stopping save to dodge counters, never giving up. Never relenting.

 

  This is the way. Attack, attack, and never look back. Embrace power and might.

  Eventually, John noticed his blows were no longer striking bone, nor the sand underneath, but hard stone beneath both. He had fallen into a red haze that had taken over his mind and guided his movements.

  John opened his eyes to look down at the now completely crushed skull. In the rubble of what had been the skeletal champion was a gleaming piece of metal.

  John composed himself and sheathed his axes. This place is really starting to get to me.

  He reached into the rubble and drew out a shield. It must have been hidden inside the skeleton’s skull. It was a large tower shield. It bore little ornamentation besides some filagree and color but even then, John could tell it was worth a lot of money.

  John had seen something similar before. They were often used by paladins that protected the nobility They also normally bore the name of the god or order that the bearer held loyalty to. On this shield, where the words of power should have been, there was nothing but deep gouges on the surface.

  These had not come from John’s axes. A different blade had made these.

  John couldn’t know where the former bearer of the shield now was. It was likely that they were just another pile of bones in the room that he had passed. It may have even belonged to the champion I just killed. But something about this shield seemed familiar.

  The shield was in nearly pristine condition. It had some additional wear and tear. Likely gathered from the various battles that the paladin had found themselves in over the years.

  John was not about to leave it behind. It could be useful to him, as it had been to its former bearer. So, he strapped it to his back. The wooden door stood open once more, once again urging John Younger downward.

  He did not dare remove the ring at his finger, which continued as if heated by dragon fire. If it was that hot, then the damage that he had taken must be severe.

  Unlike the other floors, there was no fountain or god here to heal his wounds. He had only the ring to keep the pain and damage to his body at bay.

  He was not sure how much more of this he could take. The damage to his body might already be irreparable without divine intervention.

  The damage to his mind? Well, I’ll need to see. For now, as always, there was only one thing that he could do. Keep moving forward. Always forward.

  John once again entered a stairwell leading him further and further down into the depths of the dungeon. The trials that he had passed so far were behind him, although he was wounded and hurting.

  He would push on until he had nothing left to give or until he met these gods face to face. With any luck, it would be the latter result, and he would enact his own revenge on whatever dark entity was behind this dungeon if escape was not possible

  He did not know what future horrors or monsters, or gods awaited him. At this point, he did not care. Whatever the challenge was he would adapt to it or overcome it. It was what he did. It was what he was good at.

 

  You have done well to survive the encounter, though you have been badly marred by it.

  STR = 9 - > 5

  WIT = 3 > 2

  END = 11 >6

  AGI = 7 > 4

  Abilities

  *Smite - Upon killing an unclean one, the spirit of what is sacred will be stored within your body. Use this power to amplify the holy effect of any attack you should unleash on the unclean.

  Ailments

  *Fear of the Dark

  *Burned Skin

  *Broken Body

  Equipment

  *Thrice Blessed Axes, Burned Simple Leather Armor, Sovereign Medallion *

  Items

  Book: The Book of Keys

  Torn Page

  Broken Band

  3x Minotaur Essence

  !x Gluttonous Essence

  Chapter 20: Macabre, The City Without Stars

  * * *

  John Younger went further down into the unknown. Each step more painful than the last. He felt exhausted. Always down, but never arriving. How deep does this dungeon go?

  He could feel how his body had been strained well past its limits and had been damaged. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to keep going. The Ring of Temperance would not hold him together for much longer.

  Ahead of him, still many feet below John saw the light cast by flaming torches. Already enough challenge. I wasn’t quite ready. He thought grimly as the stairs widened up.

  Soon he found himself in front of a heavy looking wooden gateway. A door with bonded steel and tripled braces with intricate symbols carved into it. Images both profane and astounding as the images carved within the door seemed almost alive.

  Depictions of angels in the heavens fighting demons and monsters on the mortal plane while darker things beneath the surface waited to consume both. A good reminder there’s always a bigger fish out there. A shiver of fear passed up John’s spine, He had the feeling of a thousand eyes upon him.

  “What is this place?” he muttered, keeping his thrice blessed axes at the ready.

 

  This is a place for those who came before both above and below. You may find some respite here, but be always wary. By no means is this place safe.

  Find a place to heal, here among the wretched hive. Repair or buy what equipment you can and strengthen yourself as you may. The essences you have acquired up to this point will be your coin. Spend them wisely.

  “So, trust no one and nothing,” John replied remembering the Inn of the Bloodied Hog where he had been poisoned and taken to this dreaded realm. Easy enough rule to remember.

  John walked up and carefully put his hands on the only place on the door that didn’t have any images and pushed. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even inch. What’s this? Another puzzle?

 

  You cannot enter that way. The city of Macabre is a peaceful city. We do not allow weapons to be drawn here. Put some things away and the door shall open for you. Your safety is assured here.

  “It’s not like I have much choice,” he admitted as he put the weapons away into the holsters on his belt. The engraved images on the door began to move, ravenously reaching toward him almost as if drawn to him. Though John was wary, he tried to pay them no mind as he went to push the door again. Careful though to make sure that none of the images were able to actually reach him.

  The creatures depicted on the door hissed as the wooden gateway pushed open. Through the open entryway John looked out onto a city.

 

  Welcome to the 5th floor. Macabre, the city without stars. I grant you a quest, though it is not binding as it is on other floors.

  Heal yourself before moving on. Far greater dangers wait below. You cannot defeat them as you are now. Do not die John Younger.

  Understood. I need to heal anyway. My body is at its limit. John stepped through the archway into the darkened city.

  A wild looking older man with shaggy hair instantly approa
ched him from where he had been leaning against a building. “Welcome to Macabre.” The man said with an almost maniacal laughter behind his words.

  John recognized the voice. “It was you who spoke to me before then through the door?”

  “Aye. That was me, though I am sure I am not the only one that talks to you. Tell me, is it Nemesis that guides your path, Amarath? Or perhaps Archimedes?” The man asked and John felt for a moment of answering he remembered the warning.

  “Who speaks to me is my business.” John answered firmly, trying to close the subject.

  “Ha. you’ve a good one, then if the voices warned you.” The man answered, “ You will do well here."

  “What exactly is the city?” John asked looking around at the hellish ruins of buildings and the dark bodies that milled about. He faintly thought he could make out a bazaar and tavern, though at further distance, he thought he could see a glimmer of light as if from a portal.

  “This is a place where those like you and similar have chosen to live, rather than continue downwards. You too can join us. But there’s a price for everything.” the man said quite cryptically as he looked down at a bubbling shadow that seemed as if it was going to turn into a monster and crushed it beneath his boot with a heavy thud and a wide smile.

  Monsters spawn here. “Who are you? How did you get here?” John asked as the old man wiped his boot against the side of a building.

  “Who am I?” The man responded cryptically. “That hasn’t mattered in a long time and certainly doesn’t matter anymore. I am no man from nowhere, we all become nameless down here. But once I think I was somebody important before I became a nobody. I followed a young prince. I was told to go forth and root out evil for the sake of my kingdom and the God I worshipped. That young Knight died. His body bound and gagged, they tossed him into the ocean and now here I am. The part that survived. There are many ways into the dungeon. It has many floors and this place, Macabre, is the place they all meet up."

  John hesitated for a moment, not wanting to reveal more details of himself, but knew he needed some kind of lead. “Where can I find a healer here?”

  The old man looked at him quizzically and laughed. “There are no healers here, only liars and charlatans. But for the right price somebody might trade with you.”

  The air between them changed and seemed to take on an undercurrent of tension as John noticed a subtle shift in the old man’s posture. “Your eyes, for instance. They still see clearly, don’t they? I’ll trade you for them. Something you can’t refuse. Your life.”

  Chapter 21: Where the Bell Rings Twice

  * * *

    The old man lunged forward like a madman, and though John was unafraid, he still tensed up ready to fight. The man’s face contorted oddly, shifting to the side as the jaw elongated, stretching the skin until it no longer resembled anything human.

  Underneath the surface of the skin, John could see things moving, much like worms, or something far more sinister. Even the color of the man’s flesh had changed, becoming pale, white, and almost leathery.

    “Give me your eyes,” The man croaked again. His voice had warped along with his body. Each spoken word caused the skin on his face to crack and peeled back, revealing the white of bone and yellowed broken teeth that elongated into sharpened points like broken class. The man’s hands extended into deformed claws.

    John jumped backwards. He was nearly taken by surprise when the monster swiped with the newly spawned claws. A pain erupted in his side as the Ring of Temperance burned hot. A burn that let him know the powerful artifact was almost at its breaking point. I need to finish this, but with a skin diver, it will be difficult.

 

  Thus is the nature of Macabre. The hidden and profane. You have learned a dark truth in the city that makes monsters of men. What will we in time find what it will make of you?

    Cryptic, but that doesn’t help me here. John thought as he reached for the axes holstered at his waist. He tugged, but the weapon seemed to be firmly attached to his belt. He tried again, putting more of his limited strength into it. It’s useless. What did that monster say? No weapons allowed in Macabre. It must be an enchantment.

    He stopped trying, any more effort would be useless. The weapons could not be removed. Then I’ll have to use something else. The monster the old man had become cackled with malevolent laughter and came at him again. John considered his options as he worked to evade another attack. I’ve been down this road before. I’ve already got the answer. He reached into the well of power within himself where he had stored energy to use his smite ability and found just enough strength to summon the ability again. This will have to do.

   “Smite.” he muttered as his hand glowed white with holy attribute and white fire spread up his hand. The Skin Diver tried to scuttle backwards to avoid him, but John wasn’t having it.

  “Not today, not ever.” For a moment, John saw a reflection of fear in the monster’s black eyes. He ignored the strain on his body as he readied himself to attack and lunged forward with all the speed and precision he could muster and grabbed the retreating monster by the head and slammed it into the ground with a wet thud.

    The effect was instant. There was an explosion of white, as the energy within him was used to power the ability. In a single moment where the monster’s head had been, nothing remained. Just charred flesh that had been cauterized. A purifying fire. The seed most have taken hold.

  The recoil on his body was immediate and intense. For a moment he was wracked with pain from the exertion. Beads of sweat landed on the ground. I won’t be able to use that again. I don’t have the energy for it.

    On the ground in front of him the monster reverted to its more human form though John noticed what looked like a blackened oil slick moving away from the man’s body towards the gutters of the city. What’s that about? This place is stranger than I had imagined. A single glowing orb appeared near the man and it was quickly absorbed. The monster’s essence.

 

  That was not a Skin Diver, it was a No Man. An eventuality of all whom come to Macabre and forget themselves. You must avoid the same fate. Yours lay further below.

  Quickly now, before more find you, follow my directions. Go down this road as swiftly as you can. Do not tarry. Do not linger. Do not look or say a thing. Do not even return a pleasantry if you hear one. You cannot be waylaid, you will not survive another encounter. When you reach the end of the road, go to where the bells strike twice. There you will find one to assist you.

    Immediately, did as instructed. He lowered his head and increased his pace as fast as he could. He ignored everything not even looking at the buildings he passed, not worrying about whether they were shops, healers, places to rest, etc. He refused to reply, when he heard “Hey stranger, you look like you’re new here.” He ignored the crying of wailers in the street asking for aid. The voice has it’s reasons, I’ll trust it’s judgement.

  Finally, when he came near the end of the street, he heard a bell ring and shifted, heading towards an open door in front of him as a grinning shopkeeper beckoned him in, but before he could pass the threshold John heard another bell ring twice. This is the wrong place. He immediately turned around as the shopkeeper wailed and turned to give chase like the No Man had.

  When he turned, John saw dozens of the No Men had followed him through the city.

    Without a second look. He ran, ignoring the pain and went straight to the place where he had heard the sound. He passed through two great double doors and the doors slammed shut behind him sealing him in. That can’t be good, but at least I won’t have to deal with so many.

    A voice called out to him as John looked around and found himself at the end of a row of pews and up ahead between a circle of statues, John saw a shrouded figure covered in bandages.

  “Be not alarmed. This place is a true sanctuary. Their kind hold no power here. I have heard of your coming. Whi
ch god will you dedicate yourself to? To whom will you seek protection? Take a moment and consider those who dwell below before you make this decision."

  Chapter 22: The Pantheon of Twelve

  * * *

  * * *

 

  I can give you no guidance here. There are old rules that must be obeyed, and your decision must be your own, uninfluenced and untethered. I would caution you though to choose wisely. Not is all as it seems

  Alright then, so it’s on me completely. John approached the figure that was wrapped in cloth.

  “And what exactly are you?” John asked of the man in rags “Before I make any further decisions. I need to know. I was already chased by the No Men outside in the city.”

  “Your caution is understandable and has merit behind it. My name is Mieruel, I am the current keeper of the Church of Last Rites, the sanctuary you find yourself in. I hold no allegiance to any one God, and in doing so I am offered protection by all of them. Such an option is not available to you. You must choose.”

  “Why would I do that?” John asked. But inwardly he could guess the answer. He felt it in every ragged breath. Because I’m not strong enough to go past this point alone.