Dungeon of the Old Gods: A Dark Dungeon Realm LitRPG

by Wolfe Locke

  Chapter 25: The Heart

  * * *

 

  Nemesis - Yes, John. How far are you willing to go? Do you know even know what you’ll find below?

  Did you even hear them screaming?

  Don’t you want to escape this place?

  Lachesis – Careful. He’s a Grave Titan. He does not yet know his goddess has met a cruel fate.

  Seonna – He’s called Grimes now? He was a Knight when he first drank at my fountains.

  I’ve my limits. I won’t willing be a monster. I will be rid of you. John vowed. I learned my lesson with the No Man when I entered Macabre.

  “Aye. I know that look. You’ve got the dazed expression of somebody whose god is communicating with them right now.” Grimes said with a chuckle. “So, I’ll repeat myself, how badly do you really want to go below?

  The question lingered in the air between them. I don’t have a choice. I need to keep going, it’s my only way out of here. I need answers, and I need my freedom.

    “It’s not an actual choice, is it Grimes? Keep going or stay here as a monster. Nemesis has me. I can’t ever go home like this,” John responded as the undead man leaned over the counter, a hideous grin spreading across its face.

    “Aye. I understand. Been there myself. I thought you might say something like that.” Grimes responded. “And you have something that I want. Essences.”

    The essence of the Gluttonous King? Or the minotaurs? Something told John to hang on to the former.

    “Monster essences. Any that you have. All of what you have. You’re desperate to go below. I’ll help you, but it’ll cost you everything.” Grimes responded.

    John hoped one of the three would offer him some advice, but nothing followed. I don’t have a lot of choice though, do I? “I accept your terms. You can have all my minotaur essences.” Technically, the Gluttonous King was something else altogether.

    In response, the three minotaur essences appeared in the palm of John’s hand and flew immediately towards the undead shopkeeper and were absorbed. The effect was immediate. Muscles surged beneath the skin as it grew in size, stature and apparent power. Most notably were the black horns that erupted from the center of Grimes’ head, much like the minotaurs. “Ah, much better.” Grimes said. “I’ll be able to hunt the No Men now and get stronger.”

    Did I make a mistake? John asked himself as he looked at the powered-up monster. The deaths of the adventuring party flashed in his mind. Who else have I doomed? He’s a monster few could handle.

  “I need to find a way to the next floor.” John responded, suddenly feeling wary as the Grave Titan seemed to have taken on a more predatory posture. I’m not safe here anymore.

 

  Nemesis - *Mocking Laughter* You were never safe here. The other pawns run amok, but in Grimes you’ve found a pawn who dreams of being king. Use the essence of the Gluttonous King. Become stronger than he is, seize his power for your own.

  Lachesis – He is powerful. But the man he was had honor. I believe he has honor still. He will not attack you immediately.

  “Ah, this power is delightful. But yes, I see that concern on your face. It’s so easy to read. When we part ways here, it will be as enemies if we should meet again, but for now. I respect the terms of our deal." The powerful undead held out his hand. A key appeared within it. Grimes slides the key across the counter towards John. "I'm going to go prepare for my hunt. Make sure you’re gone when I come back. You'll find the gate, back inside the Church of the Twelve."

  Yeah, wasn’t planning on staying around. John thought as his hands gripped the key and he left the building, heading straight towards the church. Each of the No Men he passed on the street nodded at him as he passed, and more than once, John thought he recognized more familiar faces from his time adventuring. How many have fallen in the floors above and how many have fallen in the floors below?

  Soon the door to the Church loomed in front of him, the great sealed doors that had shut him out before. He didn't even need to put the key into the door, all he had to do was pull it out, and the key disappeared in a flash, forcing the door open.

  The entire place was not how he had last seen it. The church's interior was full of ash and had been heavily burned. Where the monsters masquerading as gods had been before was instead a great scar in the ground, as if a massive hand had reached out from the underworld and took them away. A heavy aura of sorrow had descended on the place. An aura of regret.

  "I see you who have chosen poorly have returned. Was it not enough for you to break the seal of the twelve? Was it not enough that you upset the balance I have worked so hard to maintain?" Mieruel said, each world heavy with accusation.

  "I need to keep going, Mieruel. Where are the stairs? I need to go down. It's the only way to leave this place." John responded, hoping the ragged man would listen to him.

  "There is nothing for you to find down there. Nor can one such as you leave. Not when you've succumbed to the dark. Even now I can sense the corruption in you." Mieruel commented as he stood up and turned to look straight at John. "Fear not. Your time ends."

  John watched as Mieruel reached and grabbed at his leg and pulled. A long silver blade emerged, gleaming with a sheen of blue and red enchantments. Power radiated off of the man like John had never felt before. He's stronger than I am.

  He's going to attack me. He's confident too. John felt a moment of unease as the door of the church closed behind him and Mieruel tensed up like he was going to attack.

 

  Seonna – Mieruel is an entity beyond you. Beneath those rags is not a man, but a vessel. He forfeit his humanity to the one below.

  Lachesis – Aeon is his master. You cannot win this on our borrowed power alone. You will die here otherwise.

  Nemesis – Use what you have. The Gluttonous Essence contains a seed of the god who created him.

  That powerful? Even with the power I gained from Nemesis. It's still not enough?.

  "Gluttonous Essence," John called out and a black sphere appeared in his hand, and John immediately absorbed it. A terrible hunger grew within him, but so did the size of his body, and his strength.

  Mieruel moved forward, the blade in the man's hand shone with killing intent and John knew the man meant to end him. So be it. John pulled out his thrice blessed axes and met the man halfway with a cry of rage of his own. I tried. I'll embrace the monster and be done with it.

  ***************************

  The stench of blood was all around John. His blood. It dripped in a pool that spread out from the empty rags at his feet. They were right. Mieruel wasn't a man at all. It's not like I had much choice. Pus dripped from John's wounds where Mieruel's blade had cut into him. As for Mieruel himself, nothing remained of the man for him to see. Only the empty rags the man had worn. When John's thrice blessed axes had struck him, the man simply disappeared into a heap. If he'd ever really been there at all. It was like he was a golem or a ghost.

  The statues seemed to strain and moved. Time to leave this place behind. Maybe I should just stop, turn around, and refuse to go further down.

 

  You cannot. The choices you have made taint your hands, and taint those around you. You have chosen the side of the condemned and attacked my servant who pledged himself to me below. I had high hopes for you John Younger in the Crusade to come.

  I guess it can't be helped then. The radiant presence had been a constant source of calm for him. And now I've lost it. With nothing further to do, John approached the door in the hallway and opened it, revealing an alter and stairway leading down. And so I go once more into the breech.

 

  You're better off. Trust me on that. Even a monster like me can recognize that. With mine and Seonna's power, we have restored much of your body. Within you a seed of my power lives, as does a portion of the God of the Cra
ven, Percival, the one you knew as the Gluttonous King. You did well to kill him.

  STR = 9 - > 15

  WIT = 3 > 6

  END = 11 >19

  AGI = 7 > 10

  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

  *Bloodied & Bruised

  Passives

  *

  Body of the Depths

  Uncanny Valley Transformation

  Spark of the Everburning

  Bonded – Lachesis

  Bonded – Seonna

  Partial Bond – Nemesis

  Absorbed Power – God of the Hearth

  Equipment

  *Thrice Blessed Axes, Sovereign Medallion *

  Items

  Book: The Book of Keys

  Torn Page

  Chapter 26: The Prisoner

  * * *

  With Macabre behind him, John once again descended further into the depths of the dungeon. The hope that he would ever see the open sky again had dwindled down to the faintest ember burning inside of him. A true god has abandoned me.

  All that he had been through up until this point had left John jaded about his chances of surviving to see the outside of this nightmarish place. With the power he had bonded to himself, John's wounds had mostly healed. But at what cost? Lachesis, Seonna, Nemesis. They all are using me.

  But what choice do I have except to use them as well. And John was not the type to give up. He would see this through no matter what it took. At this point he had lost too much of himself to at least not do that.

  The bottom of the staircase loomed beneath him. John did not slow as he reached the next floor. He did not even draw his axes. By now, he had become accustomed to the feel of this place. The constant feeling of wrongness. I’ve changed, but I won’t bow to this place. I refuse to cower. No, it’s better to walk with my head up, ready to fight, always ready, but not scared. The dungeon punished weakness, and John refused to show any more than he already had.

  John looked around the floor on which he now found himself. As he scanned around, John could see that the walls were lined with iron wrought cells and as far as he could tell, it remained consistent further in. A prison, then?

  As always, the light here was dim. It was as if this placed shunned any form of illumination, preferring the darkness and the shadows instead. But with the power granted to him through Body of the Depths, John had no issues seeing as a grey film covered his eyes.

  John was about to explore further into the prison to find out what secrets or horrors that lay inside, but the sound of shuffling footsteps interrupted him. Monsters? Or People. Who comes for me?

  From inside one of the prison cells, a figure stepped forward. From what he could see, it was a woman. He could tell by the curve of her waist and the rest of her features. A layer of bloody bandages wrapped around her head, only parting at the mouth to show rotted and yellow teeth.

  The rest of her was covered in old, dirty, tattered clothing. The bit of skin that he could see was gray, as if it had been decaying. She walked with the shuffling steps of the undead. Of course, it’s a monster.

  Upon seeing her, John drew his thrice blessed axes. He learned that within this dungeon, bad things came in groups. When I find them, or they find me, I need to assume they’re enemies unless proven otherwise.

  Yet the No Men saw me as something of an ally. What have I become that I have thrown myself in league with monsters?

 

  Look at yourself, John. You’ve become a bit of a monster too. You’ve been becoming one this entire time. I’ve just helped a little. These aren’t of me. They will kill you if given the chance.

  John ignored the voice but listened to the warning. He focused on the other ambling forms that had come forth from the cells of the prison. It looked like he had been right, there had been more.

  They came in various genders, but mostly they all looked the same. Faces obscured by bandages, old and worn clothing, decaying skin.

  John was not sure what kind of undead these might be, but he knew not to underestimate them. Thanks to powers he had gained from bonding with the various “gods”, he was at least three times stronger than he had been before, but John was still cautious. He would not simply go barreling ahead because of his newly given strength. That was a good way to wind up dead.

  As John watched, the number of the creatures progressively increased. They stumbled out of the depths of the prison like a grey tide. Before he knew it, John saw there had to be at least two dozen or more of the things in front of him, blocking his path forward.

  They have numbers, but they don’t look quick. I know undead can be strong, but I’m much stronger now than I have ever been. I bet I could match their strength easily enough. So, it’s all about cutting through them.

 

  Looks can be deceiving John, but never should you tempt fate. There are more powers than those that claim this dungeon that we must all answer to.

  The nearest of the figures got down on all fours, almost like a dog. It regarded John with a sideways tilt of its head, and a broad, bloody smile. Although he could not see its eyes, he knew they were boring into him with malice.

  The creature moved faster than it should have been able to. Gone was the shuffling walk. It bounded along the floor like some wild animal, closing the distance in moments.

  John brought up his thrice blessed axes to meet the thing. The undead stayed low to the ground, lashing out with its sharp nails.

  John batted away the blows, swinging his axes defensively. But it somehow got within his guard, raking a hand across his face. John grunted with surprise and pain, and then his mind grew dark with white fiery anger.

 

  You’ve your own monster form John. Two of them. Use them. Embrace what you have become, and what you are becoming. You’ll never return to being the man you were. You’re becoming something so much grander. *laughs*

  I refuse. Never willing. John refused to become the thing that had slain the trio of travelers that he had encountered back in Macabre. Travelers like himself that were just trying to survive. No. He would not be that monster again. But as he went on the offensive against this attacker, he could not hold back the primal growl that reverberated from his chest.

  The thing was fast, but so was John.

  He sidestepped the next swipe of its nails and brought one of his thrice blessed axes down into the back of its skull with a sickening sound. The being fell and moved no more.

  Calmly, John turned to the others who had watched the exchange silently.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” he shouted, garnering their attention.

  In response, the monsters transformed. John watched as the ends of their arms sloughed off to reveal sharp, stinger like appendages. Then they got down on all fours and charged.

  To John’s astonishment, they did not just charge at him from the ground. He watched as they thrust their sharp limbs into the walls and started scaling them. They came at him from every direction. The floors, the walls, even the ceiling.

  Well, this is going to be interesting.

  John met the first of the creatures on the ground. It lashed at him with those sharp barbs, and he did his very best to parry with his thrice blessed axes. Suddenly, that creature broke off from him and two more came streaking at him low on the ground from either side. While another dropped from the ceiling.

  John rolled backward and came up standing. He struck with his axes, gutting the creature that had just landed from the ceiling. But the other two were still coming at him. They struck together, and it was all that John could do to keep them at bay.

  More of the things swarmed above him, their vicious grins belying their desire to see him struck down. They fell on him, and suddenly John could do nothing but defend himse
lf. Their barbs struck out like snakes, fast and precise. There were at least five of them surrounding him, with many more waiting for their chance.

  John took one of the barbs to the shoulder. No matter how fast he was, there were just too many of them.

  The pain was excruciating.

  I’m really starting to miss that ring right about now/

  John lashed out with his axes in a wide arc, driving back the creatures. He hazarded a glance to his shoulder, but the wound was already gone.