The Dungeon Destroyer: A LitRPG Level-Up Adventure (The Dungeon Slayer Series Book 2)

by Konrad Ryan

  *Flight: You know how to fly.*

  That was all he needed to see. He accepted the class even faster than he had renamed Toothblender-on-a-stick. He had always dreamed of soaring through the air without a care in the world.

  Unexpectedly, his arms elongated, and then morphed. The hair on his arms twisted and grew into feathers, the marrow in his bones was drawn from his arms, past his shoulders, becoming hollow. His marrow was a gelatin dessert being sucked through a straw. His shoulders fused onto his back, completing the process.

  Tad beamed at his new wings, glossy and shiny. His feathers were emerald green at the wing tip, becoming a pale green the closer they came to his skin. They were surprisingly warm, the intense cold of the sky dive already forgotten.

  Something clattered to the ground. Tad looked at the source of the noise, his obsidian dagger, Raekast’s Fang, now still on the floor. He had been holding the dagger in his left hand, but no longer, the transformation now complete. Tad craned his neck, trying to get a good look at his wings.

  How was he supposed to fight like this? He had no hands! Even Raekast’s Fang with its power to never be disarmed had no answer to his handless state. Perhaps it wasn’t considered disarming when you no longer had arms. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach that he had not thought this decision through.

  Tad pulled up the relevant stats. Surprise blossomed, he didn’t know that he could do that! With only a thought, just the stats he wanted to see had appeared.

  *Class: Blade Falcon

  Health: 320/320

  Str: 11

  Dex: 45

  Con: 22

  Buffs: Falcon Form

  Debuff: Weakness

  Points to allocate: 35*

  There were so many things going on here that Tad didn’t know where to start. His dexterity had gone up to 45, and both his constitution and strength had decreased by 25%, but they had been rounded down. The worst part was that the transformation had just brought back his weakness debuff. Tad would have slapped himself for his stupidity if he had hands with which to do it.

  But weakness was easily fixable if he still had points to allocate. Slowly, he added five more points into strength, which, after the reduction, brought it up to fifteen. The familiar ache in his muscles disappeared from his limbs.

  Well, he hadn’t thought this one through. Tad tried touching the soaring falcon atop the table again with an extended wing. Nothing. He tried envisioning himself back to normal as he said, “remove class,” “return to no class” and every version of that he could think of. Nothing. He was stuck like this. Panic grew in his stomach. How was he supposed to fight like this? He literally had no hands! He hadn’t even grown the blade from his nose like the blade falcon had. He had no weapons.

  Tad knelt on the bottom tier of the brown pedestal, leaning over the top two tiers, and bit the exposed head of the ornate key. Careful not to twist it, he pulled the key out with his teeth. Tad walked over to Raekast’s Fang, still on the ground, touched it with his foot, and banished it back to one of his equipment slots. It disappeared in a puff of mist.

  With the key still clenched between teeth, Tad said ‘teleport’ acceptably on the third try, finally teleporting back to his room.

  But the lights were on, and not how he left it.

  “Tad? Is that you?”

  Tad’s panic amplified at the question. Tad turned toward the source of the voice, eyes locking with his brother’s. Liam. Wordlessly, they stared at each other, Tad’s mind raced to explain his current predicament.

  Tad spit the key from his mouth, the crash on his bedroom floor was deafening. Liam stood, not as tall as Tad, but taller than average, his warm brown eyes accentuated by the tomahawk birthmark on his left cheekbone. When Tad had been younger, he had been jealous of the birthmark, he had seen it as a cosmic promise that Liam had been marked as a warrior, even from birth, but now he dismissed that as childish superstition.

  Liam’s eyes were wide as he marveled at Tad’s wings “Those look so real! I didn’t know you were into cosplay!”

  “Why are you in my room?” Tad sounded more defensive than he’d meant.

  Liam took a step back, but didn’t retreat far. “I… was worried about you. You left your door open the other day and your sheets were covered in blood. I… changed them for you, since mom is out of town, but with that much blood, I thought you were dead. But the other night, you ate the food I made, so I thought you might be home. I just came to check on you.” Liam got closer and poked at the feathers on Tad’s wings. His eyes went wide. “These are real! I knew it! I knew your rebirth actually worked. How did you trick everyone?”

  Liam was giving him far too much credit, but for the first time in Tad’s memory, Liam was impressed with Tad. This is how younger brothers should regard their elder, instead of the constant bickering and competing. It felt right. Tad couldn’t help but unfold the story of his past few days.

  He started the story from the beginning, at his rebirth. He had been reborn at a power score of zero, that part had been true. Tad unfolded the tale of the mysterious message at night, asking what he would give for power. It felt so good to tell someone the truth, the cork that had been bottled so tightly was gone, the contents spilled out freely. He described the installation of the level-up program, the burning pain. His first dungeon, the mosquito boss in every gruesome detail. Bunta’s close call in the ice sphere. He told Liam about his friends, his level ups, even his stat faux pas, about his negative charisma and how he thought that’s why bullies tormented him. Tad told him everything. Well, almost everything. Somehow Gruff was left out of the story. Both his exploits and betrayal. Every time he came up, the story was altered, somehow excluding Gruff. It stirred the inky darkness that settled in at the bottom of his soul, his tongue flicked to explore his smooth gums. The darkness fueled his temper until he quashed it and moved on. He told Liam about the lizard boss, and how it took control over Becca and Scar, then finally, he talked about their deaths. His frantic battle against the lizard alone, then his terrifying escape, with every second counting.

  Liam was a great audience, excitement danced in his eyes. Tad had never seen his brother pay so much attention to him.

  “So you really went in dungeons and killed things? And where did your wings come from, where are your hands?”

  Tad looked down at his wings, he had been animatedly flapping them throughout his story. He had never noticed how much he used his hands when speaking. Now he just kind of winged it. “Uhh, I kind of transformed, but I’m pretty sure I can just go back and revert. Probably.”

  “Go back where? You just appeared out of thin air.” Liam picked up a wing and flapped it experimentally.

  Tad had a sudden thought. “Maybe I can show you. Hang onto my wing. Then pick up that key, can you put it in my mouth?”

  “Teleport!” the words were muffled behind the key, but suddenly Tad stood in front of the tower once more. Tad was alone. Well, it had been a slim chance that it would work, but it had been worth a try. Tad teleported back to his room.

  “Aww man, it didn’t work. I wanted to see it too.” Liam looked only a bit dejected before his eyes studied Tad’s, suddenly serious. “You’re not weird anymore.” It wasn’t an insult, but said matter-of-factly. “I can finally talk to you. It’s nice.”

  Tad should have probably been offended or something, but he knew Liam was right. And it wasn’t just nice for Liam, it was nice for Tad too. Nice to confide in someone he trusted, and there weren’t many people Tad trusted. Tad spat out the key once more, this time Liam caught it. “You got to keep this a secret, you can’t tell anyone, not even mom.”

  “Unlike you, I’m great at keeping secrets.” His eyes twinkled slyly. “But I’m late for school. In fact, I’m pretty sure I missed the bus.” Liam paused. “Tad, you think you’ll come back to school? Your suspension should end soon, but now that you’re a slayer…”

  Liam didn’t have to finish the statement. Tad was
a soldier rank slayer, in power, if not legally, he could exercise his slayer rights and quit school forever. A grin crept onto his face at the realization. “Nope, never again.” He was finally free of that prison.

  “Mom called yesterday, said she’d be home tomorrow morning.” Liam paused, before his voice turned playful “I sure hope my rebirth comes soon, but I won’t be a measly zero like you.”

  Where he would have been offended at the joke, just a few days before, now Tad laughed. Was this how it was for normal people? People without negative charisma? Tad could hear the joke in Liam’s voice, in his body language and demeanor, could even see the attempt at humor on his face. He was joking, not provoking. An entire world of human emotion had just opened up for Tad, ripe for the picking.

  Liam’s face turned thoughtful. “Any chance you could fly me to school? Like I said, I’m pretty sure I missed my bus.”

  Tad laughed “Sure, why not?”

  * * *

  Tad teleported once more to the tower, key in mouth. Liam had whooped and hollered the entire way to school in what he called ‘The world’s greatest piggy back ride.’ Tad had thought the experience would be fun, but he was new at flying, and his brother’s shifting weight on his back had almost caused him to drop his load several times. It had been one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of his life, he had imagined trying to explain to his mom why his brother had been dropped to his death from three thousand feet.

  But as he stood outside the tower at the ground floor, after banishing the key into his dungeon pouch, he thought it was time he enjoyed being a blade falcon. Maybe he could even get a hint of where he was.

  Tad looked over the endless cloud-covered mountainous expanse. Now this was a proper place to fly, he wouldn’t have to worry about power lines, trees, or low-flying airplanes. Tad took off with a run as he leapt into the air. His wings flapped almost automatically. He had been more impressed the first time, but the knowledge to fly was instinctively programmed into his entire being. His heart beat faster and faster, each pump pushed the blood through his wings. His breathing increased rapidly, but it felt natural.

  Tad was a falcon.

  He climbed with each beat of his wings flying higher and higher, free of the baggage of his brother. He soared, naturally using wind currents to soar even higher into the sky effortlessly. The sun kissed his face, the wind gently caressed as it passed by. He soared and dive bombed from the sky, opening his wings just inches from the clouds, sending them swirling, only to repeat the process. The blue sky above was beautiful.

  Curiosity took root deep in Tad’s heart, it burned to know what was under the clouds. To find out where he was. Tad flew past the mountain range and descended below the clouds, hesitant to lose his vision as he passed through the humid vapor. The clouds finally parted to reveal a valley. Tad swooped closer to the ground, his sharp vision caught every incredible detail of the foreign earth below. His eyes opened wide in disbelief. Strange trees dotted the ground, the landscape an odd color, covered with foliage and flora he had never seen before. But what held his gaze was the biggest creature he had ever seen in real life, bosses included. Its neck stretched high above the canopy of trees where it munched on leaves. Its skin covered in a grey fuzz, like the feathers of a baby bird.

  Tad’s jaw dropped, his confusion peaked. He stared at what he could only describe as a brontosaurus.

  * * *

  Tad stood in the tower. His mind reeling from what he had seen. There was no way that he was on earth right now. Not with dinosaurs. But then where was he? Or when was he? Was this entire planet a dungeon? Perhaps he was on earth but had time traveled to the past. Tad had so many questions but never answers.

  He examined the small table in front of him, past the fat crab and at the creature covered in painful looking sores. This was the only thing he could think of to fix his predicament. Fat crab had too many drawbacks. Plaguebearer only gave him the actual plague, but it was better than losing half of his stats. Tad shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. But he saw no other way to get his arms back. He had to do this because of his stupidity and impulsiveness.

  Tad poked the plaguebearer with a wingtip and accepted the class.

  Marrow pushed back into his bones, feathers fell out where they stood, collecting in huge piles on the ground. His bones morphed, feeling oddly heavy inside his arms as the flesh returned to normal.

  Then the plague set in.

  Huge, painful bumps appeared across his body. It was his lymph nodes. They swelled up many times their size, making it incredibly painful to move; even breathing hurt. His body broke out in a sweat, fever taking a deep hold on his body, head pounding painfully. His muscles felt weak. Tad suddenly had a newfound sympathy for the chained up creature. Existing in this state for untold years. It would drive anyone mad.

  Tad examined his stats. They were all back to normal, except for the plague sitting in the debuff column.

  *Plague: Painful lumps wrack your body. Pain and sickness strip you of the ability to cast spells. You have a mild form of the weakness debuff.*

  Fabulous. He couldn’t even cast spells and high-speed combat would damage his body, draining his health. Maybe fat crab was the better choice after all? Tad flexed his fingers, bringing them into a fist. At least he had his hands back, and his strength. Soaring through the sky had been an incredible experience that Tad, and probably Liam, would remember for the rest of their lives. But it had come at a cost.

  Tad climbed the three flights of already cleared floors, up to the glowing pedestal. His first red-red-red trial. His hardest challenge so far, one fitting for a soldier. Looking closely, something was different about this pedestal. Small interlinked black circles surrounded the base of each of the three levels of the pedestal. Had those been there before? He hadn’t remembered seeing them. He would have to be extra cautious. It could indicate a better class reward, or more danger, or something far more sinister. Either way, he stood in front of his greatest challenge afflicted with the plague.

  But he had no choice. He couldn’t go back to society like this, surely he’d be quarantined for his sickness. He might even be contagious. He had to do this. Tad saw no other choice than to press forward and earn a useful class, and he thought he had a better chance as a plaguebearer than as a fat crab.

  Tad inserted the key and twisted it. It felt great to have hands again. The red-red-red pedestal shot into the air. The enclosed staircase shone, it was brown no longer. Bright red steps glowed, then faded in pulses. Just like the pedestal, and just like dungeons. The stairs looked intimidating; they screamed at him of the danger that lay within, black mist swayed across their surface.

  Tad held his breath and strode through the mist.

  Chapter 4

  Tad couldn’t move.

  Lying on his back with legs extended straight, his arms were pinned to his side, encased in what he could only describe as a coffin. A tiny coffin. Cold metal met his fingertips wherever they explored. There was no room to maneuver. He couldn’t bring his knees up, not even an inch. Panic set in. He had never been this restricted before. He hadn’t thought himself claustrophobic, but he found it difficult to control his panic.

  Did he have any spells that could get him out of this mess? No, he couldn’t use spells! Maybe if he brought his hands up to his chest, he could bench press the top of the coffin open. His strength was getting impressively high. Wiggling his shoulders back and forth, he made just enough space to bring his arms up onto his belly, then slowly slid them up his chest, but the top of the coffin scraped his hands.

  Turning his hands over was the hardest part. The small box was so close to his own dimensions that his hands dug into his muscular chest, his finger joints morphed and contorted into painful shapes they had never been in before. Finally, after great effort, and with his chest complaining from the abuse, Tad was victorious. The bottoms of his palms faced upward as they touched the cool metal lid of the coffin.

&nb
sp; A muffled, high-pitched scream was audible from outside the coffin. Abruptly, the lid of Tad’s coffin pressed down harder, forcing the breath from his lungs, almost breaking his wrists. Tad reflexively pressed against the force, trying to crush him. The scream had sounded human, female. The voice was panicked, mimicking Tad’s own anxiety.

  “Hello? Is someone there?” His words came out in a grunt of effort.

  No response. Again a scream, this time Tad watched in horror as the lid of his coffin shook, the entire lid shifted downward, Tad’s wrists cracked from the pressure. Were they broken? The weight increased further, following another scream.

  He didn’t have much time. His coffin was being crushed from the outside! Tad pressed. His muscles screamed with the effort as the coffin creaked loudly but held. A great weight was settled on top of the box. He just wasn’t strong enough. It was incredibly hard to use muscle groups in the limited space, and the air was getting thick in his throat, making it harder to breathe. If he was in here too long, he might just suffocate from lack of air. The clock was ticking, there was no time. He opened his stats. He still had 30 points available to allocate. Mentally he allocated five more to strength, bringing it to 25 and pressed again.

  Tad pressed with all his might, but he had to fight for every centimeter. The force from above pressed down with even more pressure, he was sure his wrists would snap at any moment. The weight increased further on his chest and back, forcing all the air from his lungs. Dread replaced the displaced air, anymore of this and he might get squashed like a bug. Tad increased his strength another 5 up to 30. Gradually the lid stopped compressing him, his power finally an equal match to the invisible weight pressing down against him.

  Screaming with effort, he felt the coffin lid bump upward, just for a moment. He was so close! Five more points into strength brought it up to 35. His muscles swelled, bulged as he increased his strength. With his body bigger, the coffin felt even smaller than before, his newly enlarged muscles filling the previous vacancies. His hands pressed painfully against the top of the lid as his chest and back muscles pressed against the metal below. Trying to slow his breathing, he closed his eyes, concentrating, then exploded all his force into a concentrated blast. The lid of the coffin lifted an inch!