by Konrad Ryan
Fresh air rushed into his lungs from a gap in the coffin lid. The air fueled his muscles with even more power. Clean air had never tasted so good. His arms shook from the effort as he forced the lid, inch by inch. He screamed his own great yell. A second muffled scream mirrored him as the weight on his coffin seemed to multiply. The weight pressing down was immense, but it was too late. Tad had too much room, too much leverage. With dominant force, Tad yelled once more. The coffin lid flew upward a solid foot, accompanied by a thick and heavy crunch.
The coffin lid floated a foot above Tad. Thick silence filled the air. Gone was the screaming, the struggling. The only sound was his own labored breathing.
Each breath was met with sore and complaining muscles. He crawled out of the narrow coffin opening to inspect where he was. Had that been the battle? Sweat dripped down his brow as he scratched his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Attached to the top of his own coffin lid was a massive metal plate. Above the plate was a thick steel beam that climbed upward into a lever. Down the opposite side was a second steel beam that descended and attached to a second metal plate. Dread filled Tad’s stomach at the sight. Tad had pressed the opposite metal plate, almost completely flush with the floor. In his stealth vision, a deep black liquid seeped slowly from between the plate and the floor.
Instinctively, Tad knew what lay beneath the plate, but he had to see, had to know. Tad grabbed the steel plate, pulled upward with all his might. The force shot up the beam, the metal plate above his own coffin slammed downward, his coffin crumpled under the force.
Tad didn’t want to look, almost couldn’t look, but his tongue slicked to his gums where he was missing teeth. He steeled his resolve, and he summoned his lightsphere to his hand. This wouldn’t be the worst thing he would see if he continued down the path toward Zero. With a word, his lightsphere spilled white light across the room, his eyes searched the crumpled coffin below. A crushed figure with long, blood-soaked hair, was in the pose of pressing. The corpse was so disfigured it was hard to tell, but the long hair and slender form looked female.
Tad fought the rising bile in his throat.
Looking at the lever contraption again, he knew the truth. He had pressed her to death. Had he lost the contest of strength, it would be she who looked upon his corpse, and wondered who the crushed figure was. Had she been an actual person, like Tad? Another void, perhaps? Or was she a resident of the class tower like the plaguebearer had been? Tad hoped it was the latter. He needed it to be the latter. He hadn’t planned on killing anyone when he woke up that morning. He never did, but here they were. He had known nothing about the situation, but he still felt responsible. He was alive. She was dead. He shivered once more, reliving the wet crunch sound that had permeated the small chamber upon his victory.
Tad turned from the figure and fell to his knees in the ever spreading pool of blood and vomited violently. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Climbing the tower, earning a class, was supposed to be fun and full of challenges with power-ups given upon victory. It was another stark reminder that he wasn’t playing a video game. Each step into the tower brought with it more danger, but also more rewards. Each trial was a bet, with his life as the chips.
She had to have been a denizen of the tower. Like the bird. Or the crab. She had to have been.
Tad examined the rest of the room. On the far end stood a stone tablet with words etched into it. Pulling himself to his feet, he stumbled over, his legs unsteady beneath him. Tad read the tablet. Then read it again. And again.
“Congratulations victor of the void battle! One remains where there were two. One progresses to Zero.”
Tad fell to his knees and wretched once more. The tablet had confirmed it. The girl in the coffin had been a void like him. The class tower put them both into a battle at the same time. And Tad had won.
Suddenly, Tad was back in the class tower, his lightsphere still glowed next to him. The light somehow offended his eyes, a reminder of what he had just seen. He plucked it from the air and banished it to his dungeon pouch. Apparently, reading the tablet was a requirement to come back. He climbed each stair, his feet full of lead, hoping that the crushed girl wouldn’t be the figure on the table. The glowing, bright red steps seemed to mock him. After an eternity, he reached the top and approached the table. A heavily muscled man stood shirtless, looking nothing like the girl who had been crushed to death. He paced back and forth along the table, occasionally knocking the fat crab to the other side of the table in a single blow.
Tad poked the figure with a finger.
*Do you wish to change your class to Fighter?*
*Fighter: Strength and constitution increased by 100%.*
It was his first excellent class, without any drawbacks. He should be excited about it. But the moment felt bittersweet. If he had defeated a powerful monster in battle, he would have been ecstatic. All he could see, however, was the crushed coffin, and the dead girl, fresh in his mind’s eye.
Tad retrieved the key from the top of the pedestal. Then he paused. The top level of the pedestal was a pure and radiant blue, the two bottom pillars still a dark red, almost as red as the girl’s blood had been with the lights on. Seems like he had his answer to his earlier questions. The next battle would be somewhere between soldier and warrior class. And if he wasn’t prepared for the next fight, he would die just as quickly as the girl had.
Each trial had the potential to be incredibly dangerous, if he lacked in specific ways. Had he not been quick enough, the crab would have crushed and ground him to death. If his damage wasn’t high enough, the fight with the bird would have taken too long, he would have smashed into the earth beneath. Certain death. If his strength hadn’t been high enough…
No. In actuality, it hadn’t been high enough. Had Tad spent all of his points on dexterity and constitution like he had been planning, The girl would have crushed him alive. She had been strong, stronger than he had been at the beginning of the challenge. Only his unspent stat points had saved him. Unspent points might even be more valuable than wrongly spent ones.
A chilling thought froze his mind. But had the girl been stronger, had she had a wider advantage in strength, Tad would have been crushed instantly, no matter how many unspent points he had saved up. In hindsight, turning into the blade falcon, and having to remove the weakness debuff by adding strength… His impulsivity in becoming the blade falcon had most likely saved his life. Had he chosen the fat crab class, instead of the plague bearer, he likely would have died with his strength halved. Unless, of course, his high constitution gave him more time to apply all of his stat points to strength. Would all of his stats into strength been enough with the fat crab’s reductions? Not likely.
There was a careful balance between being as efficient as possible in allocating points, and in holding some back, unspent. He knew he had been hoarding more than he probably should. That could get him killed someday.
20 points. Tad would try to keep 20 points saved, for unexpected problems creativity couldn’t solve. But the rest he would spend, spend and try to become the ideal slayer. Strength, dexterity, and constitution. Definitely some in courage, for bosses, and maybe a few points into charisma, just to see what skills were unlocked.
Tad removed the key from the top pedestal and stored it in his dungeon pouch in a puff of black mist. Then he approached the table once more, where four miniature creatures paced back and forth. Tad poked the soaring blade falcon once more and accepted the class change. His body morphed, wings sprouting where his arms had been. His vision grew sharper as his dexterity climbed. Tad climbed down the rest of the tower and exited to the purple sky of a setting sun. Wherever he was, it was almost nighttime here.
He took off at a running start, a great leap thrust him into the air, with each flap of his wings he climbed higher and higher. After he was sufficiently high, he closed his eyes and just rode on the wind currents. Soaring. The setting sun beat down on his extended wings. T
he air was thin, but he felt at peace here.
High in the sky, where there were no monsters, no towers or trials, and no void battles.
He knew he would come back to the class tower. He knew he would climb level after level, even though there would be more void battles. He would risk his life as he sought to beat, no… kill the other people like him. Voids, the tablet had called them… The same thing the plaguebearer had called him.
The diseased creature’s words floated to his mind once more. ‘There is but one zero. But many voids.’
Except now. There was one less void.
Tad felt wetness on his cheeks as tears flowed. She wasn’t the first person he had killed. That had been Scar. Or possibly Becca. At least, he felt responsible for Becca’s death. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard. He had always read books and watched movies where the good guy refused to kill the bad guy, and he had thought the good guy stupid. No… The ‘good guy’ in movies was stupid. Or maybe he was just cowardly, scared of the pain from taking another’s life.
Killing Scar to protect Bunta and Gruff had been the right choice. Not killing Becca had cost Scar his life; that had been the wrong choice. Killing wasn’t easy, nor should it be. But sometimes, as hard to admit as it was, killing could be right. Hard, but right.
Tad steeled himself once more. He would make the hard choices. The right choices.
But was winning these void battles the right thing? They all strove for the same goal, for power, to chase Zero’s shadow. The girl he had killed had been just like Tad. What made him more worthy than her? She had known, when she stepped on the red stairs that warned of danger, that it could be the last moment of her life. Tad had the same warning. And now he had a class that could propel him to new strengths, new heights. He had another tool in his box to defeat dangerous dungeons and keep his friends from mortal peril.
Tad gritted his teeth at the uncomfortable truth. He would kill that girl a thousand times just to save Bunta, even once. The quest for power leaves no one unscarred, some just hide the scars better than others.
Tad soared through the sky, his resolve steeled with each flap of his wings. He would make the choice that Gruff could not, he would see when someone was a detriment in a dungeon and snip the stem of their life, before they could cause more harm. He would be sufficiently hard, made of iron, to make the right choice, no matter how difficult. His thoughts flew as he did. In great sweeping circles, always ending back where they started. Eventually gravity brought him back down to the class tower, and as he landed, he realized his thoughts had settled.
Tad would do whatever was necessary, even entering these void battles, if it meant he could keep his friends safe.
Chapter 5
Tad arrived at the Phoenix Fire Guild House the next morning. His exploration of the class tower had taken the entire day. The guild was the only soldier rank guild in all of Nebraska and so far; he wasn’t impressed. He had expected organization, discipline, and most importantly, experience, but there was none of that. Instead, a receptionist had her feet casually kicked up on the desk in front of her.
“Name?”
“Tad Harrington. I’d like to join and speak with the guild leader if possible.”
“He’s out. You enlisting? I’m just a civilian, so I can’t really assess your strength, but you look strong enough.” The dark-haired woman’s eyes lingered a moment on Tad’s bulging muscles.
He had changed his class to fighter, and with it, his muscles had swelled to almost unrealistic proportions. He almost looked like a professional bodybuilder.
“Also, how do you become a dungeon leader in this guild?” Tad might as well get some answers from this lady, even if the guild leader was out.
The woman’s eyebrows climbed. “You that hungry for death, boy? Tell you what, you take a seat, I’ll call the guild leader in. He won’t be in for weeks otherwise.”
Tad sat in the lobby. He had expected a guild hall to be inside a dungeon, like Grimoire’s Gear and Goods, or Gerald’s car dungeon, but it was just a regular old office, sandwiched between a dentist’s and a lawyer’s office.
After thirty minutes, Tad got up and paced. After an hour he opened his stats and strategized, out of sheer boredom.
*Tad Harrington
Rank: Soldier
Class: Fighter
Level: 30
Health: 700/700
Mana: 42/42
Str: 70
Dex: 28
Con: 60
Mag: 21
Cou: 10
Cha: 1
Points to allocate: 15*
Clearly strength and constitution were the best value for his points, but speed still seemed incredibly important, especially if he wanted to excel in close combat. So far, the only decent weapon he had was given to him as a class reward, well, that or lost in the lizard dungeon. A pang of regret rose to the surface over the loss of Metzlegoph’s greatsword. He hadn’t even had the strength to wield it, but he was sure he could now, and it would have scaled based on his strength too. Wraithford axes were another loss he regretted. They had been immensely powerful, and useful even before he could wield them.
For now, dexterity scaled the best for damage, as Raekast’s Fang gained a point of damage for every point of dexterity. But constitution did wonders for both his ‘heal other’ spell and for survivability. Twenty points of health for every point into constitution, it was like a dream. As far as he knew, though, he had more life than Gruff had, more than anyone in his previous party, except for Bunta.
The thought darkened his mood.
Tad sat in sullen silence. Three hours later a short freckled man in a wheelchair caught Tad’s attention. Where had the man come from? Tad had been zoning out, deep in thought, and the next thing he knew the red-haired man was sitting in front of him, staring right at him. Surely, the man hadn’t come through the door, Tad examined the floor and ceiling for some trick, but couldn’t find any.
The freckled man’s sour expression turned appraising. His wheelchair drove closer, seemingly by itself, then turned, facing the receptionist. But despite the oddity of the scene Tad instantly knew that this wheelchaired man was most likely the guild leader, for a soldier, his aura felt strong. Likely stronger than any other soldier Tad had met. The red-headed man had to be near the upper limit of soldier, if not higher.
The crimson-haired man’s wheelchair turned toward Tad once more. A voice spoke in Tad’s mind. “Welcome. Name’s Gem Flask, but people call me Blaze. I…” the voice in Tad’s head paused, “Strange, I can’t feel your strength at all, but you’re built like a horse…”
“I get that a lot.” Tad spoke the words out loud, unsure if he could send a message back to the voice in his head. Why didn’t the man just speak like a regular person?
“Janette says you want to be a dungeon leader.”
Tad nodded once.
“Well, in the Phoenix Fire Guild, we require ten successful dungeon clears before we can even consider you for that position.”
Ten dungeons. That should be plenty of time to see how a professional guild operates and glean their dungeon leader’s strategies and strengths. He had been hoping for crisp operating efficiency, that’s why he chose a guild over ‘wanted-ad’ groups, but maybe they only acted like that inside of dungeons. Surely they wouldn’t be like… his previous dungeon leader. They were professionals. His palms itched to see them in action. “When is the first dungeon? I want in as soon as possible.”
“Jannette!” Somehow Tad knew the voice had included the assistant in the conversation. “We got a hothead on our hands. Personally, I love hotheads, but they don’t live very long and don’t make lasting leaders. You sure you don’t want to stay a follower?” Blaze’s eyebrows moved while he kept his entire body statue still. How on earth did the man even fight?
“I’ve cleared two dungeons already, if you consider this next one my third, toward the ten, then I’m on board. I’ve already learned how punishing dungeons
can be. I’ll pay my dues, but then I want my own team.”
Blaze’s face was stone, but his eyes studied Tad. A long moment later, Tad felt the nod in his mind, despite Blaze not moving a muscle. How did one mentally nod? “When is Ironfang’s next dungeon?”
The woman must have heard his question, for she tapped the screen in front of her a couple times “In fifty minutes. In Norfolk. That’s a two-hour drive, about hundred miles away.”
Blaze’s mouth slowly twisted upward into a grin, the voice spoke once more in Tad’s mind. “Tell you what, hothead, since I can’t feel your strength, we’ll have an initiation test. I’ll tell Ironfang to wait an extra ten minutes. If you make it to the dungeon, on foot, before the timer ends, then you can join them and we’ll count your previous two dungeons.” His smile widened. “Otherwise, you can start the ten dungeons all over again before we test you for dungeon leader.”
Jannette walked from behind the counter nonchalantly and pointed a small device at Tad. A moment later his phone, still in his pocket, vibrated.
Blaze’s grin was still locked onto his face, a statue of stone. “Location sent, better hurry.”
* * *
Tad raced across the landscape. He had been running non-stop as fast as he could. Following the roads had been too slow, instead he bounded directly toward the dungeon. He charged through a shallow river and leapt over a deeper one. His lungs pulled in air as it fed his body, his powerful heart churned his own rivers of blood. His entire body was a machine, a force of nature as he raced across the land. The skies above were clear of titanspawn, and had been ever since Brad had taken over the job of skyscrubber. Tad had to hand it to him, Brad had been more devoted than Hyde ever was.
