by Konrad Ryan
He hoped.
Tad went straight to the consumable section. Last time he had been here, he had seen them, but didn’t understand their value. They were practically portable Brians. Elixirs of various colors gleamed in glass vials. The weakest elixirs boosted a single stat by 25%, it wasn’t a lot, but the next strongest elixir cost $50,000 each, where these were $5,000 a piece. Tad picked up one for dexterity, strength, and constitution. The rest of his stats didn’t seem high enough to be worth it.
He picked up a couple of resurrection vials and then went to the armor section. He had plenty of weapons, but so far, he had been unlucky with armor drops. His leather armor had been completely shredded by the king toothblender’s vortex, and while his healer robes had been useful, they weren’t long-lived. A pang of loss thumped in his chest at the thought.
Tad touched item after item, inspecting their properties. Finally, he came to a gleaming breastplate that made his eyes widen.
*Resizable Gassy Breastplate of Rapid Healing: Loose bowels, healthy heart, passive regeneration, unexpected fart.*
Was… that a poem? If so, it was the crappiest poem Tad had ever read. Health regeneration was something Tad had desired from the beginning. If it worked like mana, it wouldn’t help much in a boss fight, but in between fights or dungeons, it could be invaluable. How much would his health regenerate? Would it be like his mana, where it regenerated fully over an hour? If so, that was almost twelve a minute, and it would only get stronger the more his health grew. The price tag was only $20,000, but for something so useful, he had expected it to be much more expensive.
“You don’t want that.” It was the blond salesman from before, a serious look on his face. “It makes you… pass gas. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Constantly. I don’t even know why we still have that item. We’ve sold it three times, but everyone returns it.” The man wandered off deeper into the rows of equipment.
Tad eyed the armor. Something like this would have been useful in so many situations. When he sat on his ice float against the lobsterpig, he could have healed so much faster, or every time his party waited to heal. This would let him use ‘heal others’ to bring everyone up to full health quicker. Not to mention that in the class tower, he could wear this, in between fights, and heal to full without having to waste mana! Nobody else would even be there to hear, so even if he only wore it in the tower alone it could be worth it. The benefits seemed to outweigh the… drawback.
Tad didn’t have a ton of time to explore and look for items, but he came across a pair of boots, each shaped like a frog, its mouth opened to swallow his feet. Surely, this had come from some frog boss. The price on it was $64,300, but the boots made you able to jump twice as high and completely negated fall damage, something he had been worried about trying to fly on Fangshredder, where a single misstep could prove fatal.
Tad paid for all his items and was left with $8,400. With that, he went back and bought another set of leather armor to replace his ruined one. They didn’t seem to last very long, and while it wasn’t much protection, it at least made him look prepared to other slayers. Before he left the store, however, he wanted to check one thing.
He approached the blond man who had warned him away from the regeneration armor. “Can you appraise an item for me?”
The blond man’s condescending smirk returned to his face, the one that said that Tad wouldn’t have anything worth appraising.
“Sure, what would you like appraised?”
“This.” Tad reach both his hands out in front of him and summoned Fangshredder from a puff of black mist. The blond salesman’s eyes bulged at the grotesque image of the weapon that appeared from nowhere. Gingerly, the man touched the handle of the weapon. It glowed in a blue light. The man’s eyes bulged even further.
“Sir. Can I ask your name?”
“Tad Harrington.”
His face went pale. “My apologies, sir, I didn’t know you were a crafter. Sorry for my previous disrespect. For this masterpiece, we can offer $3.4 million dollars.”
Tad kept his face straight, but his entire body tingled with shock. Too bad he hadn’t harvested more of the toothblender corpses, there sure had been enough of them.
“Would you like to sell it, sir?”
Tad left the shop with light pockets, but had a grin on his face.
Chapter 13
The exterior of the dungeon differed from any Tad had seen before, ephemeral and spectral. It was almost completely transparent, or at least it should have been. Trying to peer through the dungeon was like trying to see through a curved piece of glass. Halfway through, his vision twisted and fell to the dirt below where the dungeon rested. The tendrils whipped and slapped, as they always did, but even they were glass like and see through. The light the dungeon emitted looked almost pink, a washed out and transparent red.
Besides this oddity, the dungeon contained no other symbols on the door.
“As you all might know,” A strong red aura accompanied the dungeon leader, Tad recognized the man instantly. It was Syphon, the same dangerous man that Elsie had warned Tad about. Black mage robes covered the man from head to toe, gold trim and lines accentuated the loose fabric, cutting a striking figure. The robe reminded Tad of his own cloak, minus the symbols. Syphon’s droning voice turned sharp and excited, pulling Tad from his thoughts. “The spectral dungeon is a rare and special occurrence. Only magic users can damage the boss. Monsters may or may not be immune to physical attacks, but the boss will be. I invite everyone, magic or not. I don’t mind.”
Tad cleared his throat. “So they’ll be immune to physical attacks? Like slimes?”
Syphon’s eyes widened with interest. “Not quite. Kinetic motion can still affect slimes, while it won’t hurt them, you could still kick one across the room. The boss of this dungeon, however, will be more like a ghost, or a wraith.”
Tad nodded at the response but turned his attention to the other slayers. They were the rowdiest bunch Tad had seen yet. A count showed 22 slayers, and each examining the dungeon in their own way. They seemed to take comfort from the sheer number of other slayers in attendance. He searched the crowd, looking for a familiar face, but found none. Brian wouldn’t go to two dungeons in a day, since he could only cast his buffs once. There were four women slayers and Tad hoped they knew what they were doing. Elsie’s warning had probably been overly dramatic, but still, he wouldn’t want to run a dungeon with someone who might kill him. About half of the slayers wore the fiery phoenix guild pin, but none of them were women. Why hadn’t these people shown up to the last dungeon, was it because of Elsie’s low survival rate?
Syphon’s voice continued, almost in answer to Tad’s unspoken question. “My survival rate is eighty percent. In each of the last six dungeons I have led, there have only been three casualties each. While the cut of profits is smaller, there is safety in numbers, a great way to learn the ropes, gain experience.” His lips curled upward in a small, self-satisfied smile. “Are there any dousers in the crowd? Might as well check for irregularities.”
None volunteered. After a moment, Tad stepped forward to murmurs of surprise. He wasn’t exactly sure if he qualified as a douser, but he had found out more from touching previous dungeons than anyone else he had met, and if no one else was going to try, he might as well.
His hands found the surface of the spectral rock, warm to the touch. Did that mean something? Besides that, the exterior was smooth, like glass, despite its cobbled appearance. He waited, with eyes closed, for a sound, an alert, anything.
Nothing came.
Tad turned back to Syphon, shaking his head. A glint of recognition glowed in the man’s eyes as they locked with Tad’s.
“I’m glad you came, I’m sure Elsie called off the dungeon with only the three of you left.” His smile turned even more smug at the statement. “Unlike her, my survival rate is exquisite, and I open my dungeons to the public. There is strength in numbers.”
“So you have said. We going in or we just goi
ng to chat for the rest of the day?” Tad had never felt so annoyed at someone’s self praise. It was infuriating.
The man’s smile faltered for a split second before returning, yet it showed some strain. “I like your ambition. Yes, I think it’s about time. Everyone follow me.” The man turned on his heel, his mage’s robes flared dramatically before he disappeared through the open spectral door of the dungeon.
Tad followed, directly on his heels, and faded through the dark mist.
* * *
Barely suppressed rage pulsed through Tad’s head. It demanded to be used, appeased. The dungeon had been laughably easy so far. With twenty-four slayers, including Tad and Syphon, they had outnumbered the enemies, so it had been pretty safe, especially with their slow pace. But it had taken them almost five hours since they entered, only now reaching the boss room. Despite the ease of the dungeon, they had already lost three slayers.
He was now sure that it had been at Syphon’s hand.
The first death had happened during battle. Small plant-like creatures had swung from vines and trees. They wore tribal masks that reminded Tad of African or Hawaiian masks. Colorful, wooden, painted with berries, or maybe their own blood, he wasn’t sure. Their arms were a twisted series of vines that pulsated and flexed, almost like muscle. Wooden spearheads tipped the ends of the vines in a weapon that could be launched or stabbed. Tad’s quick eyes had no trouble following their movements, but that wasn’t true for all of their party. Still, they had defended and protected each other.
Until the explosion.
A slayer’s torso had completely disappeared. The woman had died instantly.
The second death had also been a woman.
And the third.
But beyond those three deaths, the group was relatively unharmed.
Syphon’s spells were unique, firebolts, icebolts, and thunderbolts were twisted and woven together. The combination seemed to amplify their offensive power. Tad watched the mage carefully, since he had missed it the first two times. Missed how Syphon had killed his own teammates, but the third time he had caught a glimpse. He had sent his perception tendril to envelop Syphon. It had been so subtle that Tad had almost missed it, but a tiny trail of mana seeped from beneath the man’s shoes, down into the soil below. It snaked out, burrowing through dirt until it pooled beneath the third woman slayer. Tad had been just about to yell in warning, but the explosion happened suddenly, and violently. This one left no sign of the slayer that had been there moments before. Despite his mana snake, Syphon had always been looking the opposite way when it happened. Usually ‘fighting.’ But it didn’t fool Tad. Their enemies fought with no magic, and he had caught the man in the act. Anger burned in his veins, amplifying with each pulse of his heart. The man deserved death. This differed from Gruff’s mistakes, or even his betrayal. Syphon was a monster, pure and simple, gaining pleasure from his hidden culling of women slayers. It was nothing but pure murder.
Tad had wanted to act fast and hard, kill Syphon before he knew what was coming, but Tad, for the first time, saw the dilemma as a dungeon leader. To kill Syphon now, before the boss fight, might be to condemn dozens of others to death. Syphon was by far the most skilled magic user they had and would be invaluable against a boss immune to physical attacks. They needed him.
Ants of anxiety fed on the anger in his gut. If he didn’t do it now though, could he really call Syphon out after the boss was dead? After the killings had finished? It was the right thing to do. The man was a monster. But he still would have an army of slayers at his heels to command, and he was the rightful dungeon leader, who all the other slayers had willingly followed. To stage a coup then was certain suicide. He might even have to kill other slayers just to stay alive.
It would have to be an assassination then. Quick and simple.
Tad steeled himself for what he planned to do. It was the hard choice, but it was right. How many slayers had Syphon killed before this dungeon? How many more would he kill after? Tad allowed his determination to flow through him, to condense into a small ball of pure steel at his core.
He would do what was needed.
But for the time being, he had befriended the last woman slayer, killed a vine creature at her back. She was young, with vibrant brown hair and dark eyes. Freckles dotted her face, and Tad found her cute, despite her ferocity in battle. He hadn’t seen her match. She was fiery and excessively violent, and even though she wielded dual wands, she would take to kicking or punching the corpses of her fallen enemies. She seemed to take pleasure in their deaths. Tad didn’t blame her for that. Her aura shone a solid red, attesting to her strength. She was the strongest of the four women. No wonder Syphon had saved her for last. Her name was Kali. Tad never strayed far from her in battle, keeping his perception chasing the ground beneath her feet. He wouldn’t let Syphon have her.
A single golden handprint awaited on the boss door. Anyone’s hand would open it. Syphon slapped the metal plate unceremoniously and the boss door disappeared. Syphon raised his staff and lead the charge, everyone followed on his coattails.
Blue light burst from the open boss room, and suddenly music began to play. High tempoed and fierce, the music swelled, some sort of twisted violin music. It sounded like the beginning of a great boss battle theme. The slayers paused at the sound, just as the door to the boss arena slammed shut behind them. Above them in the sky, a huge blue moon shone brightly, but besides the moon, the sky was completely black. Dark trees surrounded the entire battlegrounds, each branch and limb stretched out, almost to grab at the participants. Gravestones and crosses stood over innumerable graves, and in the center of it all, a spectral blue woman stood in a pristine wedding dress that glowed blue in the moonlight. Tears fell from her eyes, landing on the section of her dress that was stained in gore and tar, bowels exposed beneath. Her hair, otherworldly and blue, was twisted in immaculate ringlets untouched by the mess on her dress. The woman’s face was hauntingly beautiful, except for the steel metal plate nailed across her mouth. Tad read the words above the creature’s head with a twist of fear in his heart.
*Luthuani the Banshee Bride*
The boss was a banshee.
He had fought several in video games; they had taken all forms. Some beautiful like this one, others ghoulish and undead. But they all shared one trait.
Their scream was instantly fatal.
In one hand, tucked under her chin, was a silver violin. A golden violin bow held in the other, the outside edge gleamed sharp and dangerous. She played deftly, her fingers a blur of speed and sound. The music, which was at first haunting and subtle, turned meteoric. Tad’s blood pumped faster, he was filled with need. The need to fight. The need to defeat. And yet, it enchanted him, demanding his full attention.
Luthuani was playing her own boss music.
The banshee took a step and disappeared. A slayer screamed directly from Tad’s right. The banshee stood in front of him, her perfect blue curls sank deep into the slayer’s chest. Her other locks had transformed, hands stood at the ends reaching for retreating slayers. The hair embedded in the man’s chest grew taut and then pulled, his scream died along with him. His heart, ripped from his chest, was crushed suddenly in the banshee’s hair-formed hand. The flesh of the heart twisted and writhed until it covered the spectral hairhand entirely. Her new heart-hand gripped hungrily at the metal plate nailed to her mouth, trying desperately to remove it.
Chaos exploded as slayers, now free from their trance, began to fight. But the sudden death and gruesome display had sunk fear deep into their chests. Some ran for cover, others stood paralyzed. One man gripped his chest and fell to the ground crying. But not Tad. Tad had seen worse.
Tad fired dual firebolts directly into her face and two more exploded from Kali on his left. The banshee’s spectral hair covered her like a shield, other tendrils slapped away other spells. Explosions and screams only served as a counterpoint to her music, incorporating the frantic sounds of battle to enhance her performance
.
Only Syphon’s mixed spells penetrated her barrier. Her face twisted in a scream of silent pain, but the metal plate prevented even a whisper of sound to escape.
The banshee stepped and disappeared again. Tad had gotten a clear sight of it this time. She had opened a silvery misted portal and then stepped through it. She connected the two points in space for just an instant. The man who had fallen to the ground in fear now screamed, a tendril stuck deep in his abdomen. She pulled once more, and pulled out an organ, brown and smooth. The man stumbled backward, his maximum health dropped to half, the previously red bar now black with a line through it, like Sara’s had been after the burns. His health bar continued to drop as he slowly bled out. Tad dashed and pulled him away from the boss in front of him, afraid she might come back for another organ, but she stepped away once more. The squishing sound of the man’s liver told him where she had teleported to. Already, a second hand pulled at the second corner of the steel plate, which trembled. Ice filled Tad’s veins at the image he had seen, so close to her, before she had stepped away. Four tiny ‘X’s’ were written on each corner of the plate. In an instant, he realized her strategy.
“Don’t let her get four hands! She’ll pull it off and kill us all!” His voice sounded desperate, even to his own ears.
Tad pulled the whimpering man away and slammed ‘heal other’ into the wounded slayer. The bleeding stopped, wound disappeared, but his health only jumped to fifty percent. An alert popped up before Tad’s eyes.
