by DB King
But his face was the most horrible part. Like the others, he had black beady eyes and wavy feelers, but he also had a thick black beard that dripped salt water as it writhed like a tangled mess of eels. Something about that black beard combined with the evil lobster face made Marcus’s bile rise in his throat.
“I’ll kill you before this fight is done,” he promised the demonic lobster captain quietly.
Out in the surf, the burning galley’s mainmast toppled and fell. At the same time, the body of the ship cracked down the middle and split into two. Black smoke and flame rose fifty feet in the air, and a cloud of white steam added to the chaos.
The captain raised his spear in the air and gurgled out a loud command to his followers, and they charged.
Marcus had just time to remind himself of Ella’s words. Every enemy your dungeon creates is within your ability to defeat.
“Fleetfoot! Hero’s Might!” Marcus paused only momentarily between casting each spell, and he felt his body flooded with magical energy as they took effect.
These monstrous lobster creatures moved very swiftly in the surf, which made sense considering their origins. They moved fast, but they were less adept with their swords than Marcus was. He was filled with a sudden hatred of these nasty creatures, and he found his own speed and dexterity boosted beyond what he had thought possible.
His sword moved like flashing lightning, reflecting the bright sun in its polished steel as it dealt death amid the frothing surf. The monsters were inclined to rely too heavily on their claws bringing down death from above, and they were clumsier with their cutlass and buckler combo.
Marcus exploited this ruthlessly, ducking in under their claws and slashing them off with mighty upward strokes, then shouldering them off-balance before dispatching them with a swift stab through the face or the chest. He had to be careful where he placed his blows—the creatures had solid outer shells, and the tip of his blade could easily glance off if he didn’t get his stabbing thrust at the place where two plates joined. For this reason, he slashed the arms off at the joints and then stabbed them through their delicate faces, enjoying the screams as they fell back from his cuts.
The speed in his limbs increased and increased until he felt as if time was slowing around him. More and more of the monsters threw themselves at him, but he twisted and turned in a deadly dance, striking them down as they snapped their claws at him from every angle. Like the octopus monsters, the crustacean-men were vulnerable to his freshwater blasts, too, and he used that ability to drive back those who tried to come up on him from behind.
This speed! he said to himself as he fought. I’ve never felt anything like this kind of agility before. The Fleetfoot spell shouldn’t be this powerful. What’s going on? His Dungeon Master Instinct told him it would not last, but just now it carried him through his enemies like a scythe through a wheatfield. The crack of shells sung out from the beach, mingling with the desperate, crustacean screech of his enemies. Finally, as the last one fell, only the distant rush of the ocean remained.
Marcus turned to face the dungeon boss, the massive captain of the ship.
Chapter 23
The captain towered over his minions. He had held back until the rest of his forces were defeated, but now he began to advance through the water toward Marcus. The weapons he carried were the classic spear and net combination favored by many in the fighting arenas over on the north side of Kraken City, where gladiatorial combat was provided as entertainment for those who liked such things. Marcus was not a fan of that kind of entertainment, but he knew how dangerous a net and spear could be.
Huge lobster claws snapped in the air above the captain’s head. Scars from past battles traced along the shell. His massive arms wielded the net and spear fast as he scurried toward Marcus. He closed the distance with terrifying speed, his crustacean legs biting into the sand like red spears. Wet sand shot up behind him like brittle, gray clouds.
Marcus had always been taught that when fighting an enemy much larger than yourself, you should focus on his weakest point, to the exclusion of all else. Looking at the roaring, chattering mass of claws, blades, and armored carapace in front of him, it struck Marcus that this horror didn’t really seem to have an obvious weak spot. Even the face was covered by a layer of thick bony hide like the faceplate of a helmet. The waving feelers that had seemed so delicate on the others were clad in metallic casings.
The monster dived in for an attack, sweeping his big net around his head and then whipping it toward Marcus. Marcus leaped backward to avoid getting caught in it, then slashed at it with his blade. The blow cut into the twisted cords of the net, severing a few of them but leaving most of it intact.
A blow from the spear followed up the captain’s net attack. Marcus dodged the thrust and smacked the spear-shaft hard with his sword, shoving it away. The captain and Marcus circled each other warily, both looking for an opening.
The captain had the advantage of a much greater reach with his long arms and long spear, and Marcus would have to be cunning if he was going to get close enough to deliver a deathblow. He would probably only get one chance when he got close enough. The captain’s huge claws snapped in the air above his head, ready to crush Marcus if he got too close.
Buying himself time to think, Marcus backed away toward the dry sand, and the captain followed at a distance, chattering angrily and glaring at him. When Marcus reached the tideline, the captain stopped. The captain seemed reluctant to leave the seawater.
So that’s his weakness, is it? Marcus thought. He moves better in the water, and doesn’t want to get up onto dry land. Well, if he wants me, he’ll have to come up here.
With Fleetfoot and Hero’s Might working on his speed and strength, he moved rapidly through the water and got onto the sand. The boost of speed he’d gotten in the earlier fight with the lobster minions seemed to have worn off. Where could it have come from?
Then he remembered the stimulant seeds he’d placed in the dungeon during the gestation phase. Of course! They must have evolved into a stimulant boost related to the dungeon itself.
His two minor buffs wore off as he got out of the water onto the sand.
Spell: Hero’s Might Level 1
Level increase: 5%
Progress to next level: 21%
Spell: Fleetfoot Level 1
Level Increase: 5%
Progress to next level: 50%
Warm seawater squelched in Marcus’s boots as he backed away from the tideline. After a moment’s hesitation, the captain lunged, heaving his huge bulk up out of the water. The sea frothed and foamed around him as he surged forward, his six clawed legs scrabbling on the wet sand as he charged.
Marcus continued back until he reached the softer, dry sand toward the dunes. Here, the captain’s size was against him, and his clawed feet sank into the softer sand the further they got up the beach. His legs scrambled, kicking up white sand behind him.
The captain made a sudden rush at Marcus, trying to put an end to the pursuit. It was just the opportunity Marcus had been waiting for. The captain swung the net and stabbed with the spear at the same time, but Marcus leaped to the side. As he leaped, he blasted a jet of freshwater from his left hand straight into the captain’s face.
The monstrous lobster captain screamed as the water hit him. He reeled back, momentarily blinded. Marcus was about to rush in for a killing blow when the captain responded with a ranged attack of his own. With a horrible hissing noise, he shot a jet of hot molten silver at Marcus. The blast came from the monster’s mouth, a thin, fine jet that steamed and smoked as it hissed through the air toward Marcus’s face.
Cursing, he flung himself away from the unexpected attack. The silver spattered the ground around him, just missing him by inches. The captain roared and charged, his net held above his head. The net whistled through the air as he flung it and landed right on top of Marcus.
The captain’s feet churned up the soft sand as he tried to close the distance for a
kill, but he was slower up here. Marcus had a moment to try to free himself. He held still, knowing the danger of struggling wildly in a net—he’d seen too many gladiators only worsen a net’s grip by struggling unnecessarily. He steadied himself. A quick look showed him where to cut, and he brought his blade up in a quick slash that split the net.
As the captain’s spear drove at him, Marcus sprang forward, cutting back and forth with two quick slashes that parried the spear and turned the deadly blow of a claw from above. Suddenly, he was right up in the captain’s face.
The monster stank at this range.
Marcus felt a burst of the dungeon’s speed rushing through him, and he drew on it. A claw slammed down from above, but with a lightning-fast upward slash, Marcus tore out the thick tendon behind the claw, driving the edge of his sword through the gap in the monster’s armored plates.
The captain howled in pain. He dropped his spear and grabbed Marcus’s throat with both his humanoid hands. Hot silver bubbled up around his mouth, and he drew his head back, preparing to spray Marcus in the face at point-blank range.
His fingers were made of linked sections of chitin, like the legs of a lobster or a crab. They dug viciously into Marcus’s flesh as the silver bubbled from the monster’s mouth. With a mighty effort, Marcus wrenched his sword up and drove the tip of the blade into the bubbling mouth with all his strength.
Four feet of sharpened steel plunged into the captain’s face. The blade smashed through flesh and bone and brain, and it cracked the carapace as it came out the back of the captain’s monstrous head.
Blood and hot silver bubbled out around the wound, soaking the captain’s horrible beard and drenching Marcus’s sword hand. Marcus roared out in pain as the hot metal gushed over his hand and down his arm, but he yanked the blade back and brought it down in a great two-handed stroke that severed the captain’s left arm at the elbow.
The monster’s grip went limp. He shuddered and spasmed wildly as he died, gurgling softly as the last whisper of life escaped him. Marcus threw himself away from the monster, taking gasping breaths and clutching his sword in his burned hand. The lobster captain’s body liquified in a sudden rush, turning into a mess of silver, blood, and hot sea water. Steam trailed from the puddled corpse.
With an effort, Marcus lifted his left hand and conjured a jet of cool fresh water onto his burned sword hand. He let the water run over the wound, feeling the pain ease immediately. As he did so, his head cleared, and he looked around the beach. All was silent, save for the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore.
Out in the bay, trails of smoke still rose into the air from the wreck of the galley. The bodies of the lobster crew floated in the water twenty feet out from the tideline, gently being tugged back to the sea by the waves. At the tideline, off to his left, Marcus found the charred wooden remains of the ballista and the now-cold silver from the bodies of the crew.
Up near the dunes, the scattered bodies of the octopus monsters lay limply in the sand. To his right, only a little way off, was the pool of cooling silver and bloody water that had been the captain.
Only the gentle lapping of the waves on the beach remained.
A click and a creak came from behind him. Marcus glanced up and looked toward the noise. The little wooden hut that contained the exit back to the Grove chamber had opened. The plank door had swung back, revealing an incongruous sight—the bottom of a stone staircase that climbed sharply up out of sight.
He struggled to his feet, feeling his heart slowing and his breath calming. He’d had a narrow escape there. The lobster captain had been a fearsome dungeon boss, worse than anything he’d fought outside of the Cursed Pestilence dungeon.
He looked at his right hand, narrowing his eyes at his burn wound—or where it should be. There was no wound, and he was feeling no pain. In amazement, he held the hand up in front of his face.
Water dripped from it, and the sleeve of his tunic was tattered and blackened where the silver had burned it, but the hand itself was fine—there was not even a scar.
He looked from his right hand to his left, realization slowly dawning. The water! The fresh water that was able to manifest had a healing property!
Could it truly be the case? It seemed too much power even for a dungeon master, but there seemed no other explanation. The only other explanation he could think of was that the dungeon itself had healed him, but that didn’t seem likely. Other cuts and bruises he’d received in dungeon fights had never healed of their own accord, and the duelists, in their first fight, had carried cuts and burns away with them. The dungeons themselves didn’t heal, surely? It must be the water from his elemental power.
He raised a hand to his neck. It was bruised and sore where the captain had tried to throttle him, and when he looked at his palm, blood was smeared across it. He felt again. Yes, he’d been cut. There was a deep graze in the flesh just above his right collar bone. It stung when he touched it.
Carefully, he covered the wound in his neck with his palm. Drawing on the water power, he channeled a careful flow of water out of his hand onto his neck. A cool, refreshing sensation washed through him. After a moment, he stopped the flow of water and touched where the wound had been. Sound flesh met his fingers, and there was no sting. When he took his hand away and looked, there wasn’t any blood.
The wound had been healed.
Elemental ability: Water
Current Mastery Level: Novice
Level progress: 10%
Progress to Apprentice level: 17%
“A bigger level increase this time. That must be because I’ve healed myself multiple times.”
As Marcus looked at his hands, a wave of excitement washed over him. How far would this go? How much could he heal? Would it work only on himself, or would he be able to heal others with this power?
Of all the things that had happened so far—the enhanced physical strength, the new spells, the dungeons—this new healing power was the most surprising and exciting. The sheer potential of it was dizzying. When people thought of magic, many thought of the offensive spells: conjuring lightning, forming fireballs, or summoning animated blades. These were probably the flashiest and most impressive kinds of spells. But ones like this water power, ones that could heal wounds, well, they were a very different kind of impressive.
Grinning with anticipation at what might come next, Marcus hurried back across the sand toward the cabin.
He entered, bypassing the pile of gold coins and silver ingots that had spawned as a reward for clearing the dungeon. Those were the rewards for the adventurers who might come here in future, but for Marcus, the rewards were different. He could not take gold and silver out of the dungeon—he could not take any of the physical rewards out—but the dungeons gave him the opportunity to practice his new powers and develop his new abilities. That advantage was beyond the value of any amount of gold.
When he stepped out into the Grove chamber, Ella was nowhere to be seen. All was quiet, and the light had turned to that of a cool evening, reflecting Marcus’s fatigue. A few stars glimmered up above, and a low moon hung over the edge of the cliffs, shining onto the still lake. The trees at the center of the grove rustled gently in the wind.
“Marcus?” a sleepy voice said. He looked around, then laughed. He hadn’t seen Ella up in the tree branches. She’d climbed up there to nap, but now she flew down and hovered near him.
“You were gone for so long!” she smiled. “I was almost beginning to worry, but instead I thought I’d just take a nap. How was it?”
Marcus turned and regarded the little stone building that he’d just stepped out from. He raised a hand and spoke the spell to close the dungeon. A wooden door dragged closed across the opening, and a light outlined its edges, sealing it. Ivy crept back over the makeshift door.
“It was amazing, actually,” he began. “A totally different dungeon from any I’ve had before.”
Settling down by the fire, Marcus drew a mug of ale from the barrel whic
h never seemed to run out. He grabbed a chunk of roast venison from the ever-present haunch roasting over the fire.
“There’s bread, too,” Ella said, handing him half a loaf and a ceramic dish of butter. The smell of the food reminded him how long it had been since he’d eaten. He tore into the bread and meat, and waited until he’d filled his belly before he turned to Ella and began the story of the new dungeon.
“It’s kind of like a pirate’s cove,” he said, refilling his mug. “In fact, I think that’s what I’ll call it—the Pirate Cove dungeon.”
He described to her the beautiful sandy beach and the wide bay, and then described the monsters and the fights one by one—from the octopus creatures to the silvery ballista crew and finally the crustacean pirates. When he finished the story about the fight with the captain, Ella’s eyes were shining with excitement, but when he told her about the healing properties of the water, she gasped and stopped him.
“Go back,” she said. “Tell me that again.”
With a shrug, Marcus repeated what he’d just told her—how he’d directed a flow of his elemental water power toward his burned hand to cool it and found that it had completely healed the wound, and then how he’d experimented with it on the graze on his neck.
Her eyes burned with excitement. Marcus was excited by the new power too, but Ella seemed to be more carried away by it even than he was. She seemed to be working up to telling him something, but she wasn’t quite ready to let it out yet.
She leaned forward, her hands on her knees. “Show me,” she said suddenly.
“What?” he asked, taken aback.
“Show me,” she repeated. “Show me your healing power, now.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What, you mean you want me to…”
