by Konrad Ryan
Tad’s thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as Cain met Tad’s eyes.
An icy wave of terror filled his entire body, only now realizing the full extent of his mistake. Cain didn’t have the same look of enjoyment on his face that Tad recognized from his bullies. This look was different. The look in Cain’s eyes was pure murder. The man was a stone-cold killer, a raider, a pillager. A pirate. He had no interest in using his might to lord over the weak. No plans to torture someone for his own amusement. No, Cain would kill the weak one second and forget them the next.
Tad was dead. He knew it. His entire body screamed about the danger in front of him, but nothing could save him. He had brought the ire of Salvation Cain onto his head. This is why everyone averted their eyes, why they had let him do as he pleased.
Tad was dead.
One piece of information floated to the surface of Tad’s mind despite the terror that filled his entire being. Your clone dies first.
Would he make it in time? He had to try.
“Clone-”
Tad mentally equipped the werewolf helmet the instant before his skull exploded.
Chapter 32
Too late.
It was the last thought in Tad’s mind as he fell to his knees, completely decapitated. His hands reached up to where his head had been just a split-second ago, almost not believing what he felt. The coarse fur of the wolf helmet met his grasp. Under the fur Tad could feel the solidness of his skull, still intact.
His head had been gone, he had lived it. It had been so fast he hadn’t even felt it. There had been no pain. His entire head had been destroyed in an instant. The only thing that had met him was the sensory deprivation of death. In an instant he no longer felt, heard, smelled, or tasted anything. His vision had gone completely black and only returned in black spots, like he had stood up too fast after waking from a nap.
Gasps throughout the room masked Tad’s panicked breathing as he fought to bring it under control. He retched as quietly as he could, joined by others in the dungeon. He should be dead. The werewolf mask had materialized on his head, he had equipped it with a thought. Tad had instantly cast the clone skill the moment it became available, but Cain’s attack had landed almost the same instant.
Tad had met the death in Cain’s eyes.
But here he was. The clone skill had saved his life. The clone skill and his quick thinking. No, he hadn’t thought quick at all. He had frozen like a deer in the headlights, like someone tied to the train tracks with no other option than to watch death swiftly approach. It had been something deep, something primal that had saved him.
The need to survive.
People said life flashed before your eyes before you died, and now Tad knew what they meant. In an instant, his mind had sifted through all the chaff before proposing one last gambit that had the potential to save his life. It was probably the biggest gamble his subconscious had ever made, but this time, it paid off.
“No! Tad!” Bunta shouted. His words sounded like a wounded animal, mournful, and filled with anger.
In a flash, Bunta had his twin daggers out from his sheaths. He hesitated for just a split second, just long enough for Tad to reach out and grasp his ankle. Bunta tried to charge at the monstrosity that was Salvation Cain, but Tad held him back.
Twin daggers lashed out in anger, slicing the length of Tad’s arm in a blurry and deadly attack. Bunta’s eyes were filled with rage and pain, with the need to lash out. They searched Tad’s face, wondering who would dare stop his kamikaze attack.
The madness slowly fell from his face; his features twisted into confusion. “Tad?” Bunta mouthed the word.
Tad nodded, cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he tried to calm his shaking legs. He held onto Bunta’s leg for support now, more than to stop him.
Salvation Cain stood above the corpse of Tad’s clone, both arms stretched outward, his massive chest muscles on display. His eyes were closed, but his sight rose gradually until he was looking far past the dungeon ceiling to something beyond. Euphoria filled his expression, Liz’s existence completely forgotten.
Tad searched for Liz, who was nowhere to be found. She must have escaped the dungeon in the chaos. Tad didn’t blame her. Despite his panic surging in his chest, Tad forced slow, intentional breaths. His lungs were on fire, they burned with need, yearned to continue their unchecked frenzy, but Cain might finish the job if Tad drew his ire once more.
Pounding footsteps broke the silence as Fat Jack’s handler, Tony, made a break for the dungeon exit. At the motion, some flinched away from Cain’s imposing figure, others didn’t move a muscle, relying on Cain’s mercy.
“Stop.” Cain didn’t raise his voice, but his word filled the room. Tony’s stride stiffened for just a moment before he lowered his shoulder and pressed on.
Tony had two steps to go before his head exploded. Blood and bits of unidentifiable flesh painted the walls around the black misty dungeon exit. A large chunk of his skull flew straight through the exit, carrying out its owner’s last wishes. Hopefully Liz was already far enough away to not catch any skull shrapnel.
Would dead human matter even make it through the portal intact? He instantly regretted the thought. It wasn’t just dead human matter. That had been Tony. It had been a person with dreams and aspirations, probably a family of some sort. Cain hadn’t cared about any of that. Just his own selfish ambition. The pleasure of the kill. Tad worked to stave off his rage. He couldn’t make another mis-step.
“All will wait until the boss. If it has no requirement, I will permit you to leave.” The cold, uncaring steel in Cain’s voice made the words all the more menacing.
They passed the next fifteen minutes in absolute silence. No one dared make a sound, or move even in the slightest. They muffled their breathing, like three gazelles surrounded by a pack of lions, each not wanting to be the first to draw attention, hoping that someone else’s reckless attempt at escape would buy them their own chance. It was the longest fifteen minutes of Tad’s life. Rage burned and seethed in his chest at the visions that replayed in his mind. The visions grew increasingly violent, ending with Tad biting Cain’s spine, pulling it from his neck. Aggression surged, begging to be used, but even now Tad recognized it as not his own. He would have to fix this Silverfang debuff if he survived this ordeal, but for now he relished in the fantasies of violence. The thirst for vengeance.
An electronic ding caught his attention.
*New quest available!*
Silently, Tad opened the notification.
*Kill Salvation Cain.*
Finally.
A quest he could get behind.
* * *
Ethan appeared from the fourth door with a wide smile on his face. His health bar was still half full. Tad couldn’t help but gawk. Everyone who had entered these miniboss doors had come out near death. But not Ethan. He had a few scratches, but was in much better shape than any of them. Tad wished he could have watched the rest of the man’s stick figure fight. See what someone that much more graceful than Bunta looked like at full power.
Ethan picked up on the atmosphere of the room instantly, and his dagger, gripped in his remaining hand, swayed from side to side, ready to defend himself as needed. His eyes found Cain a moment later, standing tall, blocking the entire dungeon exit. Ethan’s dagger disappeared from view.
“Wise choice, cripple.” Cain said. He waited for a response, but Ethan offered none. After a moment, Cain shrugged. He spoke once more.
Interrupting his words, three of the completed dungeon doors slid across the walls. The doorframes rumbled as they crawled but continued past the corners of the dungeon, until they merged, where the fourth door had been. Their frames squished together, like thick oil, until they combined and swirled together, finally forming a larger door, colored gems set deep into four handprints. This boss would allow only four people. Great.
“Three volunteers.” Cain said. He wasn’t asking.
Without hesitatio
n, Ethan raised his hand. “On one condition, you let everyone else leave.” His eyes scanned the crowd, surely looking for his daughter
Cain nodded his approval.
Tad’s stomach twisted, his lungs desperate for a free breath of air, away from the tension of the room. Tad could see once again that Ethan was an outstanding leader. Seemingly unafraid of anything, or if he was, he didn’t show it.
Fat Jack was the next to raise his pudgy hand into the air. “I volunteer.” A smirk of his own appeared as he continued. “Or, I would, but that hunk of meat at your feet was my handler.”
Cain looked down at Tony’s body, then shrugged again. “Then pick a new one. That will be three.”
A wide smile swept across Fat Jack’s face before he raised a chubby finger and pointed to Tad. “Alright, I pick Wolfbane then, he seems like a sturdy lad.”
Wolfbane? Tad turned, but there was no one behind him. Dread sank into his bones at the sudden realization. Panic burgeoned in his chest. Fat Jack was talking about Tad’s helmet. Fat Jack wanted to take Tad into the belly of the dragon with someone who had already killed him once.
Tad tried to speak up, to refuse, to say anything, but his mouth was dry and would not move.
Cain nodded once, and took one step to the side, exposing the dungeon exit. “We got our three. The rest of you can leave now.”
Without a second prompting, the remaining members of Ethan’s group stormed out the door.
Bunta walked past Tad, and pushed both the mosquito ring and gauntlets into Tad’s hands, dried red blood still stained the surface of the gauntlets, but only in thin smears, it looked as if Bunta had tried to clean them. Bunta’s eyes were filled with anger, with raw pain. Tad slid the gauntlets on his hands, followed by the ring.
“I would have volunteered if I knew Jack would drag you into this. What is Fat Jack thinking! Stay near Ethan, he’s your best chance.” Bunta pulled back. It surprised Tad to see tears of anger in Bunta’s eyes. “Don’t die, Tad, I can’t lose any more friends.”
“I won’t die yet. Bunta. I got one quest left, and I swear I won’t die until it’s finished.”
Bunta furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then turned and disappeared from the dungeon, following the others.
Salvation Cain, Ethan Flint, and Tad Harrington stood in the middle of the dungeon. Blood from two corpses crawled toward them like two deep-red arms reaching for the warmth of life.
“This is how it’s going to go.” Cain spoke but didn’t look at any of them. “We open the door. I fight, you watch. The loot is mine, everything is mine. Intervene and you die. Comply and I’ll let you live. If the boss gives me my thrill.”
Fat Jack smiled on his plush bean bag in his corner. “Why not just let us leave after we open the door, big scary boy?”
Tad and Ethan both stiffened at Fat Jack’s words. Was he really taunting Cain after everything he’d seen? Maybe Fat Jack didn’t have a hard-on for picking on Tad. Well, no, he certainly had that, but it seemed to extend to more people than just Tad.
“Sometimes the boss needs more than one. You think I enjoy looking at you? You gross fat cow.” Disgust at Fat Jack’s form flashed through Cain’s disdainful eyes.
Fat Jack laughed, his eyes danced. “You a real scary boy, you know that? I’m just so scared. Maybe I won’t open that door after all.”
Cain’s visage darkened. Darker than when he had killed Tony. Darker than when he had been annoyed with Tad before and killed him too. Why was Fat Jack trying to piss him off?
“You will do as I say, or I’ll kill you and get a fourth.” Cain’s voice was filled with mirth. The man was on the edge.
“Alright scary boy, I’ll do what you say on one condition. I get half the loot.”
Tad’s jaw dropped wide open as Cain’s face twisted into a snarl, red with rage. Tad couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Just how big were Fat Jack’s balls? Fat Jack had a death wish. It was the only plausible answer. The man wanted to die. Tad couldn’t think of anything else that this would accomplish. Cain was a monster. He was so fast that Tad couldn’t even see where his movements began or ended. When he had killed Tony, it had seemed instantaneous. He hadn’t even seen the blow that had killed his clone.
“Looks like I need a different volunteer then.”
“Enough words, Scary boy, come get me. Planetary Force.”
Cain disappeared. Fat Jack’s fat rippled in thirty directions at once as Cain’s onslaught ramped up, but a huge gravitational force pulled at everyone in the small room. Tad gripped the patterned stone wall, straining to not fly straight at Fat Jack. Tad concentrated, hoping to catch even the shadow of Cain, but he couldn’t. The man was impossibly fast for a warrior. Fat Jack’s girthy laughs filled the dungeon waiting room as his health bar slowly decreased.
Even with Cain’s insane onslaught, Fat Jack’s health bar only dropped a few percentage points. He was assaulted from all sides by the strongest warrior rank slayer, and he laughed.
A force field appeared around Fat Jack’s head as Cain switched strategies, attempting to attack his head instead of his prodigiously fat body. But no blows made it through. Fat Jack’s laughing intensified, his laughter rolled through the small dungeon entrance, louder every second. Tad could feel the pure rage of Cain, the seething anger, the white hot focused assault to stop the large man’s laughter.
But he couldn’t.
Tad knew that this had to end, eventually. Fat Jack couldn’t fight back. His health finally dropped below fifty percent for the first time as a nasty indent appeared near his stomach. But then something changed. Fat jack uttered the words ‘Wave of Regeneration’ and his health started increasing and with it his laughter became even more raucous.
Gashes and slashes opened up as blood painted the room. Cain had apparently switched to a weapon. But the damage could not overcome the regeneration Fat Jack had going on. Cain’s shriek of frustration and Fat Jack’s laugh intertwined in a horrible sound that assaulted Tad’s ears.
Finally, Salvation Cain appeared once more, out of breath, his previous white tank top completely soaked with blood and sweat, a blue steel sword in hand, where he had gotten it from was a mystery. Its edge twisted through several colors. Rivulets of sweat dripped from his bald head.
Fat Jack laughed once more “What do you say scary boy? Fifty-fifty?”
Chapter 33
Salvation Cain’s rage peaked at Fat Jack’s nonchalant mockery. The man clearly was used to complete, fear induced, obedience. Fat Jack showed no fear, not even a hint. Tad was certain Cain’s mirth would turn to killing the rest of them. The man was unhinged, a complete lunatic who always got his way. Fat Jack might feel safe in the furnace of Cain’s rage, but Tad had never felt so vulnerable.
“No! I will not share my spoils with a man who can’t even walk on his own!” Cain roared.
“I eat everything before it spoils scary boy.” Fat Jack’s eyes danced.
Tad closed his eyes. He hoped Fat Jack had a plan. That he wasn’t just tormenting this force of nature, this being of pure power, for his own amusement. His doubt must have shown on his face because Fat Jack threw him a look of pure smugness, of ultimate arrogance. The man was having fun at their expense. Again.
Tad’s hate for the fat man swelled once more. He had constantly mocked Tad from the first moment, never relenting. Jabbing at him whenever he found a chink in his armor, anything to poke fun at. And now he was putting them all in unparalleled danger. Even Ethan wore a mask of concern.
Cain turned from the massive man, pointing a finger at Ethan and Tad. “You two will stay put until I chase down someone to replace him. The fat man can’t go anywhere. I’ll go get one of the cowards that fled.”
Ethan gave a nod of understanding. Tad followed his lead, and Cain stormed past them toward the exit.
“I guess that means we’re not sharing then?” Fat Jack said, his words stopped Cain in his tracks. He turned, slowly, his piercing gaze of hatred and malice tur
ned Tad’s stomach.
“I’ll end you fat man. Slice by slice, I’ll feed you to the pigs.” Cain fumed, but Fat Jack was unaffected by his words. Instead, Fat Jack began squealing and snorting like a pig at each of Cain’s steps before he disappeared into the black misted exit.
The amusement on Fat Jack’s face fell, replaced with a snarl. “Bastard. Kill my handler, will ya.” Tad stiffened at the sudden change in demeanor.
“Well you two, we don’t have a lot of time before he comes back. What do you say we hop on in there and kill us a boss?” Fat Jack’s snarl had disappeared, replaced by a self-pleased grin.
Tad felt a little stupid at stating the obvious. “But we need four to open the door…”
Fat jack waved his arms as if doing some grand magic trick then pointed both his hands in finger-guns to the opposite corner of the dungeon. Tad followed his fingers to the corner, but there was nothing there. At least, there wasn’t until something moved, revealing a faint feminine outline that almost perfectly blended into the dungeon walls.
“I don’t have a lot of magic, but camouflage is one of my favorite spells.” Fat Jack said. With a snap of his fingers, the spell dropped, revealing Liz, who stood in the corner of the dungeon. Her jaw looked swollen and painful. “Plus, I thought you’d want some quality time with your girlfriend.” He made kissing noises to emphasize his point.
Relief swept through Tad like a torrent, a river. He had been glad she had gotten away safely, but to see her here, unharmed, made him realize how much he had been worried. Well, mostly unharmed, she nursed her large swollen jaw in both her hands. Tad took her jaw gently in one hand, her eyes explored his inquisitively, and he prepared ‘heal other.’
